Colossus
by nenya62189
Summary: Newlyweds Deryn and Alek are off to another adventure per Doctor Barlow's request. New bonds are forged as friends and allies both old and new accompany them while dark magic, old enemies, and beasties of a dark and ancient nature arise. All the while, they search for a fabled and seemingly impossible-to-find treasure. Sequel to Tikal!
1. Dead Men Tell No Tales

**Hello, my friends! **

**So, after starting a lot of the chapters for this and adding a million plotlines (not really, but there is A LOT more I need to touch on than in Tikal!), I can tell you that this story is going to be LONG. I don't even know how many chapters. I had planned on at least trying to get most of it done and then post it, but as that obviously didn't happened and I promised everyone September, we're going to do chapter-by-chapter. So I'm sorry to anyone that hates that, but I promise I will be strict on myself on updating!**

**Now, on with the rest of my author's note. (Does anyone really read this? **_**I**_** don't even read them at the beginnings of stories!) I have done so much reading about pirates, alchemy, Russian fairytales, islands, and Japan. It is all so interesting, and if you feel inclined to do so, you should, too! **

*****And if you haven't read Tikal, the first part of this installment, this one might be confusing. Not that I'm discouraging you from reading this (by no means am I!), but ye be warned. :)*****

**And speaking of Tikal, the fabulous, wonderful, meritorious ****Jett-Wolfe98**** used her magical talents and drew up a sketch of Cocijo that is EXACTLY HOW I IMAGINE HIM. It's extraordinary. It's **_**dyn-O-MITE**_**! And I am SO excited about it. Seriously, she showed me when she started it and I collapsed in a fit of unbearable joy. I came completely undone when I saw the finished product. Thank you, Jett! The link to it is on my profile! Go look! :)**

**And because I'm here, I will respond to your lovely review,****Cita****! :)**

**You are most welcome! THANK YOU for reading! I am seriously so honored that you said that! I always loved reading your reviews; you always have something nice to say and have great suggestions! I hope you like this next story just as much! :) Guate is awesome! Someday I must visit as you did; I simply must! You are awesome, and thank you again; truly.**

**All original characters and storyline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

* * *

"Steady now, lads!" the bo'sun shouts as the men clumsily lower the last chest into the ground without falling in themselves. Somehow, they manage it and climb back onto the ledge and begin covering everything in the space with dirt and rocks. The captain watches them carefully, stroking the white cat in her arms.

A twig snaps, alarming her. She sighs when she sees it's only a bird fluttering away. False alarm. Though, they shouldn't be wasting time. There's no telling what sort of beast could be nearby..

"Pick up the pace!" she orders as Zephyrus jumps from her arms rubs himself against her legs affectionately.

The men oblige obediently. They know well that she didn't earn her title as the Siren of the Seas by just bossing people about.

She looks around again, checking for any torchlight in the distant. If he finds them, it's all over…

Of course, that was highly unlikely, but she couldn't help but be paranoid. This was _her_ island; no one else could find it without the map. And even if someone did manage to get a hold of that, Zeus help them if they came here. It wasn't called _Isle Moros _for nothing.

"What 'bout that piece, Cap?" says one of the crew, motioning to the trinket in her palm.

She studies the treasure she's currently holding carefully. "I've got another spot in mind for this one, lads."

"Lead the way! No worries, Cap'n! We won't tell no one."

_There's only one way to make sure of that_ she thinks to herself. She tosses and catches the last piece of treasure in her hand. This isn't just any treasure; this piece deserves it's very own hiding place. She worked far too hard to obtain it just to toss it in the ground.

She slips it in her pouch, reaches to both of the holsters at her thighs and takes out her pistols, one for each hand.

"No, you won't."

Systematically, she eliminates all the witnesses.

After all, dead men tell no tales.


	2. Honeymooners

Pure, unadulterated bliss.

That was how Alek would have described his honeymoon.

Days on end spent simply lounging about doing nothing, exploring the ancient Osaka castles, wandering the countryside and seashore, running through the green rice fields; it was all glorious.

And that was nothing to speak of the company he was in, of course.

He was having the most beautiful time with his wife, Deryn. They had an entire month to themselves to do whatever they pleased, which was, of course, exactly what they were doing.

They had been sent to Japan by Doctor Barlow and her husband as a wedding gift, at least, that was what she had told them. Alek had his own suspicions about her motives of sending them away to so nice a place for so long a time, and most of them had to do with the upcoming mission she had asked them to go on. True, Alek would have chosen to say in Japan, honeymooning for much longer, but he knew Deryn was excited about the new mission and seeing her so excited, in turn, had the same effect on him. Spending an entire month with one's beloved was glorious and marvelous and wonderful, but an adventure with one's beloved was quite exciting in its own way.

They had had many adventures before, of course, but something about adventuring together now that they were married was a new and slightly thrilling prospect. They were closer now, closer than they'd ever been, in both mind and body. Surely it would be different now than it had been before, and in the very best way.

Alek's pleasant thoughts of their newlywed escapades were interrupted when a pillow hit him square in the shoulder. He opened his eyes abruptly, immediately wondering where the warmth from body that was just lying next to him had gone off to.

Another pillow flew at him, this time narrowly missing his head. He turned and looked at the foot of the bed, and standing there, wearing the brightly colored, haphazardly tied _yukata_ Yatsuke-san (she was the owner of the _ryokan_ in which they were staying. A charming, older woman with no children, she seemed to greatly enjoy having the two of them around) had given her, was Deryn.

She grinned at him mischievously and pounced on the bed when she saw him looking at her. She crawled towards him impishly. "It's about time you woke up, your princliness."

Of course, he was not a prince any longer; he had given that up just before they had gotten married. But she continued with the nickname nonetheless; old habits die hard.

He sat up and stretched, still not fully awake. "Good morning to you as well, Mrs. Hohenberg," he yawned.

She stopped and her expression softened slightly. "Mrs. Hohenberg," she repeated. "That's going to take some getting used to."

"_Mrs._ Hohenberg," Bovril's voice echoed from behind the changing screen, followed by a lengthy phrase in Japanese. The beastie had, of course, accompanied them and was thoroughly enjoying the new pieces of language it was acquiring. It was all gibberish to Alek and Deryn; he did hope the beastie wasn't saying anything unsavory.

"Bovril and I like it," he said, drinking in the sight before him and pulling her into his lap. "You look lovely, by the way." He said it genuinely; she did look beautiful, as usual.

Deryn's mother had taken it upon herself to pack her daughter's suitcase for their honeymoon, conveniently leaving out all trousers. The majority of its contents were all either dresses or skirts, a fact that Deryn found completely annoying. (It amused and delighted Alek greatly) She had tried to pilfer a pair of Alek's trouser but he stopped her before she could, arguing that if she did he would have nothing to wear. And if _he_ wore a dress, he might get arrested and that would put a damper on everything. So she had taken to wearing the Japanese style clothing provided by Yatsuke-san, which she claimed was not as good as trousers but not nearly as constricting as a dress.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Get stuffed."

Alek chuckled and took one of her hands, raising it up and pressing his lips against it. "What were you doing up so early, my darling?"

"_You're _the one sleeping till all hours of the morning," she said cheekily. "She brought us breakfast," she added. "And mail," she added as she reached for the pile of letters on the nightstand. "Didn't go through it yet, though."

She sifted through them, tossing the uninteresting ones to the side until she came to one that piqued her interest. She tore it open hastily, eyes widening and a smile spreading across her face as she read it.

"Barking spiders! Gràinne's pregnant!"

Right after Deryn and Alek had been married in Italy; literally minutes, Gràinne and Jaspert decided they wanted to as well. A few eyebrows had been raised at the sudden decision, but they were sure about it. Evidently, things were going well.

"They didn't waste any time about _that_," she muttered as she continued reading, making herself quite comfortable leaning into Alek.

"Indeed," he mumbled whilst kissing her on the cheek. "Good for them. When…?"

"May," she answered, stuffing the letter back into its envelope. "A baby for Jaspert. That's barking odd to think about!"

"You'll be an aunt," he said.

"And you an uncle," she answered back. "Uncle Alek and Auntie Deryn," she tested, and then grimaced slightly. "I hope it comes up with something else."

Alek chuckled at her as she handed the rest of the stack to him. "The rest are for you, and pure dead boring by the looks of them. What's he write about anyway?"

Alek frowned. He had been receiving quite a few letters from Count Volger as of late, mostly regarding potential political positions he might be able to get into, even after Alek expressed no interest whatsoever.

"His son, mostly."

"Oh," Deryn said quietly. "Poor Count."

Some of the letters had bits of potential information that could lead to Volger's long-lost son, whoever he was. He didn't have much, just the boy's mother's name and such, but it was a start. Though he highly doubted this journey would lead them to him, both Alek and Deryn had promised the Count they'd keep a watchful eye, just in case.

Speaking of the Count, he would be arriving in Osaka later that afternoon along with Bauer. They had been asked per request of Captain Dakkar to join them on this mission, whatever it was.

"Is he coming in tomorrow?"

"This afternoon, I believe," Alek said. "And we're meeting with Haamid later."

Haamid was the Captain's assistant. He had sent them a telegram earlier that week asking if they could arrange a time to discuss details.

"-which means we have the morning left to ourselves," he added. "Whatever shall we do today?"

"I have a few ideas."

"Oh?" he asked.

"Aye, and all of them start with breakfast," she said as she got up and planted a kiss on his cheek. "I'm barking starved."

She tossed his blue _yukata_ at him and pulled back the covers, the cold air causing Alek to grimace. "Come on, Clanker! On your feet."

He wrapped himself in the robe and reluctantly got out of bed.

* * *

Alek smiled to himself as he watched her amble barefoot through the garden. It was a lovely garden, with a koi pond and plenty of flowers. In the middle of it there was a small pagoda with small red bridges leading to it, the perfect size for the two of them to dine in.

He sighed contentedly. This was his life now, and that was something he was very much glad of.


	3. Tatsu Maru

**Thank you to SecretKeeper1095, Jett-Wolfe98, Barking Lizards, Hija Del Enchanto, EllieStone, and jibblitmuffins3675 for your kindness! :) Each of you is wonderful and I appreciate your reviews so much! You all are fantastic! :D**

**Hija Del Enchanto: my heart is so happy that you enjoyed the last one! I hope you continue to like this one! Muchas gracis! :D**

**All original characters and plotline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

Truthfully, the reason Deryn had gotten up so barking early because she had felt so barking sick.

She had been feeling rather lousy a few days this week; on and off again, never consistently. At first she suspected it to be something she had eaten. She loved food and Japanese cuisine was quite delicious, but blisters; all that raw fish must have been doing a number on her stomach. So she had chosen to blame the unfamiliar fares, which seemed like a perfectly reasonable explanation until earlier that very morning when she felt a very strange sort of... flutter. But it wasn't even a flutter at all; more like a queer sensation, like the pulse in her insides quickened their pace for a moment. It reminded her originally of the feeling she'd get whenever she was topside of the _Leviathan_ and the ship dipped downwards unexpectedly. She'd waved it off, of course; for it was quite faint.

But the more it occurred, the more she wondered…

No, that was daft.

Deryn had chosen not to mention anything to Alek was because he was _such_ a worrier. He nearly became hysterical when she caught a cold once (it was really more of a sniffle); there was no telling what sort of panic he might work himself into this time. And he'd probably send her straight back to Scotland if she told him she'd been feeling slightly under the weather. It wasn't that she was keeping it a secret from him; she was simply preventing him from becoming encumbered by the unnecessary stress he would no doubt bother himself with.

And besides, they had a mission to go on. She couldn't be bothered with things like this.

She was fine.

She just couldn't be pregnant.

* * *

"Are you feeling all right?"

Deryn snapped out of her thoughts and looked at Alek. "Aye, I'm fine. Why?"

He frowned. "You ate hardly anything at breakfast this morning and we've been walking for quite some time. Should we sit and rest for a moment?"

She smiled at him, trying to appear reassuring. " Just tired of fish, that's all. I'm fine."

He chuckled at her as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "All right, as long as you're sure. Now, according to our map, the park should be just over this way..."

His voice faded as Deryn scanned the area. They'd been walking for hours, completely and hopelessly lost (though Alek refused to admit it); trying to find a certain park the Captain had told them he and Haamid would meet them in. Of course, the map was written in Japanese, which didn't help much, and Alek was too stubborn to ask for directions. Typical. At first Deryn wasn't interested in asking for directions either; she, too, enjoyed the gratification of finding a seemingly impossible-to-locate place. But she was so barking tired. All she wanted was to get their assignment, go back to the _ryokan,_ and sleep.

"Pure dead lost," Bovril said dutifully from her shoulder, as if speaking her mind in her stead. she shushed the beastie.

Her eyes glanced over locals dressed in their native attire; others were wearing Western-style clothing. Beasties lumbered next to walkers in the street, their drivers smiling and nodding at each other. Japan was such an interesting place. It was both Darwinist and Clanker; modern and ancient. It was a melting pot of cultures and traditions and seemed to be doing quite well at blending them all together. The people lived quite peaceably (or seemed to, at least) with each other, and the fabrications and machines seemed to get along well enough.

She kept looking until she spotted a turban-headed figure sitting on a bench. Upon closer inspection, she saw that it was Haamid, Captain Dakkar's assistant. Sitting beneath crooked branches filled with lovely pink blossoms, he appeared to be reading a book.

"That's him!" she declared, breaking Alek's concentration. He looked up in the direction she was pointing, then back down at the map and nodded. "Erm, yes, it's right over there!"

She laughed at his stubbornness as she took his arm and the two of them crossed the street, dodging both mechanikal and sinewy traffic.

Haamid snapped the thick book shut when they approached and smiled as he greeted them. "You two look positively inspiring," he said cheerfully. "You didn't have any trouble getting here, did you?"

Before Deryn could answer, _Yes, we did have trouble, actually. Pick a closer place next time!_, Alek did. "No trouble at all." (Probably a good thing, too; being overly tired made her quite cross and lashing said crankiness out on Haamid just wouldn't have been polite.)

"Good," Haamid answered. "Captain Dakkar will be glad."

"Where is the Captain?" Alek asked. "We thought he might be here."

"Yes, he sends his regrets and apologies. Another engagement came up last-minute that he needed to attend to," the man explained. "He will be meeting you tomorrow morning at the port for certain, however. In his stead, he's asked me to give you this," he said while reached for a large bag. He handed it to Alek.

"It contains things you'll both need it for tomorrow," Haamid explained while reaching into his case. "And here are directions to get to the docks."

Deryn sighed to herself as Alek looked the directions over then up at Haamid. He smiled and nodded at him, as though he understood them perfectly, though if tomorrow went anything like today he likely didn't have a clue.

"Can you tell us what we'll be doing?" Deryn asked. She had been very impatient waiting to know what their assignment would be. When they had first been told about it by Doctor Barlow, she said she wasn't entirely sure.

He smiled. "I don't have much time, but I can tell you some of it. Have either of you ever heard of the Devil's Sea?"

Alek and Deryn both looked at each other, then shook their heads. "No."

"Ah, well, it's an area in the Pacific Ocean just off the coast of Tokyo; sometimes it's referred to as the Dragon's Triangle. Just a few months ago, there was a merchant ship, _Tatsu Maru_, found by the Imperial Navy whose last bearings led them to believe that it had sailed through the Triangle. Everything: the cargo, the rigging, the flags, even the kitchens were perfectly intact and organized. The only thing missing was the crew. Not a single soul was found aboard."

Alek furrowed his brow in concentration. "They abandoned ship, perhaps?"

Haamid shook his head. "The lifeboats were found still tied to the vessel and in perfect shape."

"Barking spiders," Deryn said quietly.

"Barking spiders," Bovril echoed.

"Barking spiders indeed," Haamid answered. "It has happened before, but no one has ever understood why. It is a great mystery the Captain wishes to solve."

"So we're going to find the sailors?"

"Yes, among other things. The Captain will be able to tell you more about that himself," he said. "I know that he's always wanted to go into the Triangle, but it is nearly impossible to navigate without a map."

"He has one?" Alek asked.

Haamid nodded. "Through a recent turn of events, he has acquired one, much to his delight." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his watch. "I must be going now, but I will see you both tomorrow on the docks! Are you sure you can get there?"

Alek glanced down at the map again and nodded. "Yes, we'll find it. Is there anything else we'll need?"

Haamid shook his head. "Everything you need is in the bundle, but free to bring any personal belongings you may have. See you tomorrow!" he called as he collected his things and walked off hurriedly.

"That was odd," Alek said after he had left.

"Aye, he was a bit twitchy, wasn't he?" Deryn said while turning the parcel over in her hands. She opened it and grinned. "Trousers!" Among other things, too, but she was most excited about the lovely black pairs of pants. Bovril was excited, too; the loris dove inside of the parcel accordingly and began rummaging around.

"Oh, hullo, Hohenbergs!" came a familiar voice from behind them.

Deryn turned to see Doctor Barlow waving at them, loris on her shoulder. Newkirk was beside her, holding onto Tazza's leash and balancing several of the boffin's bags on his arms. She was wearing her signature bowler hat, a dress of deep purple, but far more interesting than any of that was the large bump just where her stomach was. She shuffled over to them as Tazza excitedly pulled Newkirk towards Deryn.

Alek was unable to hide his surprise. They had, after all, just seen her last month and she looked nothing like this. "Doctor Barlow! I didn't know you where-"

She smiled. "Yes, I have been for eight months now; I'm just starting to show."

_So that's why she's been so nice,_ Deryn thought to herself. _What else is she hiding under all that bustle?_

"Congratulations," Alek said.

Bovril's head popped up from the bag at the sound of the familiar voice and was greatly delighted to see its loris counterpart. The two of them slithered on the shoulders of their respective masters and began exchanging new phrases with much giggling.

"Thank you both!" she said as she rested a hand on the rounding of her stomach. "Mr. Barlow and I are quite delighted. Mr. Newkirk and I were just out exploring!" Newkirk smiled at them and nodded in greeting hastily; he was apparently too preoccupied trying to stay organized amidst all of the bags he was holding for chitchat.

"Mr. Barlow has a great interest in Asian ceramics," she said as she motioned to one of the several pouches hanging from Newkirk's arms. One of them was positively stuffed precariously with vases and other various potteries. "What are you two up to?" she asked as she began walking, waddling, really; very, very slowly, to which Newkirk begrudgingly offered his arm. She took it thanklessly.

"We were just meeting with Haamid a moment ago, but he had to leave rather quickly. It was all rather sudden," Alek stated. "We didn't know you were going to be here."

Doctor Barlow waved her hand at him. "Yes, Captain Dakkar really has a liking for theatrics! And I've come to see you both off tomorrow! I wanted to make sure everything goes smoothly. And," she said, leaning in close to them, dragging Newkirk with her, and said, "it gives me a chance for one last trip before the baby comes! Did Haamid explain your assignment to you?"

"No," Deryn said. "The Captain couldn't come. Do you know what we'll be doing? Surely he doesn't want us just to help him sail," Deryn said.

"No, of course not!" the lady boffin answered. "With every mission, my dears, the Zoological Society has a purpose. Here, I think I've got the documents in my bag," she said while looking at Newkirk expectantly. He held out one of the bags for her to dig through.

"Purpose!" repeated the lorises from behind them, followed by several giggles.

"Perhaps I don't have them... I'm terribly sorry; I'm always disorganized at this point in pregnancy! I don't know about Captain Dakkar's purposes completely, but when he put in his request to the Society he asked for two scientists able to sketch and record new species of animals. Naturally, I thought of you, Deryn," she said, "and you, Aleksandar, have been around your fair share of fabricated flora and fauna that I think you are more than qualified. You'll be going to an island of sorts."

"Of sorts?" Deryn repeated.

Doctor Barlow nodded. "It is an island once thought to only exist in legends and the like, but the map Dakkar has recently obtained says otherwise. It is said be a place of biological wonder!"'

"What sorts of beasties are there?"

"I have no idea! You see, my dear, no one I've ever known has been."

"No one?"

"No one that I know of. I'm sure it will all be quite exciting. There's even legend of a dragon that lives in the waters!"

Seeing the alarmed look on Alek's face, she quickly added, "But that's all myth, of course." Deryn noticed a gleam in her eye that said she might be hoping there really was a dragon in those waters. It would be quite the biological discovery, after all.

"I suspect that there is also some sort of treasure along with solving the mystery behind the Devil's Sea; Captain Dakkar keeps a very large museum at his home in Bombay. He does love his trinkets!"

"Will you be coming with us?" Deryn asked.

She laughed. "No, of course not! As I said, I merely here to see you off! I would like to, but there's no way I would be able to in my condition. Besides, I'm sure you'll be more than fine on your own! I'll be sending Mr. Newkirk long also, just in case you should need him for any reason," she said, looking scornfully down at Newkirk. He seemed unaffected; he was probably quite used to her glares. "And Count Volger and Mr. Bauer will be arriving tomorrow; I'm sure you will be in the best of company. Now, would you care to lunch with me? All of this unbridled enthusiasm has given me a ravenous appetite!"

* * *

That night, encircled in Alek's arms and huddled up close and snug to him, Deryn thought of how daft she had been earlier. Seeing Doctor Barlow so obviously with child made her realize what it really _was_.

At lunch, Doctor Barlow blethered on and on about how she had been eating almost nothing but wasabi (hence why she had an extra box wrapped up to take with her) with boiled eggs (a thought that made Deryn's stomach turn). She had painful backaches and swollen ankles and got highly emotional for no reason at the drop of a hat.

None of that was bothering Deryn. Surely she had just been paranoid.

She wasn't nearly ready to even begin even thinking about children, much less already have one on the way. She knew Alek was quite excited about the idea, but she wasn't as enthusiastic. It wasn't that she didn't necessarily want to; it was just so much hard work.

When she was younger, she'd completely written off the idea all together. That had changed when she and Alek got together, of course: now the idea of creating another life with the person she loved most seemed appealing, but very distant.

And they were both still so young! She wanted to travel and stay up late and go on adventures with Alek. They wouldn't be able to do any of that with a baby.

They'd wait until they were both ready and that was that.

She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly as she nestled a bit closer to her husband, satisfied with her reasoning, and started to drift off into sleep.

Until, that is, she felt another queer flutter and then she doubted everything she'd just convinced herself of.


	4. Discourse after Dark

**Super-special thank you to: Cita, bookworm250250, danipayne, Barking Lizards, Julia456, erica, EllieStone, Hija Del Enchantro, Jett-Wolfe98, CinnamonC, jibblitmuffins3675 for the wonderful, thoughtful reviews! :)**

**Cita: Eeee! Thank you for the review! It's really great to hear from you again! :D :D :D**

**Erica: Here's the update! It is especially for you. :) Thanks for taking the time to review!**

**CinnamonC: Thank you so much! I hope this chapter does not fail to disappoint! :)**

**Now, two things: 1. Doctor Barlow really did have children (six of them, no less!) and she had one in 1919, hence why I made her with child. 2. You all are totally right: everyone being pregnant is overkill. But I promise it's (probably) not what you're thinking! **

**A snifter is a brandy glass! **

**All original characters and storyline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

_"Absolutely not," said Father without missing a beat. "You cannot live under the same roof unless you are married," he added resolutely as he knocked his head back and emptied the snifter of brandy._

_Ernst closed his eyes and took a breath, trying hard not to lose his temper. He knew that was exactly what Father wanted._

"_We have tried, but no one will marry us," Esmé said quietly._

_Father let out a dry laugh. "No clergyman in his right mind would marry a harlot and a nobleman, especially when _it_ is so obvious."_

_She opened her mouth to retaliate, but his words cut deep. Ernst reached and took her hand under the table._

_"Father," he started. "We-"_

_"I have already responded to your request," he said in an exasperated tone. "And my answer is final. No son of mine will take up house with a strumpet!"_

_With that, Esmé pulled her hand away from his, shoved away from the table, stood, and moved quickly out of the dining room. Ernst took the napkin from his lap and threw it onto his plate in frustration._

_"Why can't you just accept her?" he growled at his father as he stood. "Or be civil for a change?"_

_Calmly, he responded, "I will not have my grandchildren's blood befouled with that of a gypsy."_

_"It's a little late for that," he retorted._

_"This never would have happened if you had simply listened to me in the first place, Ernst."_

_He ignored him and began walking out of the dining room._

_The servants didn't bat an eye; they were unfortunately used to such outbursts. Ernst heard his mother calling for him, only to be ordered silent by Father. He wished Emile or Heinrich would stand up to him, but they hardly glanced away from their plates as he passed. He knew that Emile wouldn't: he was the son that could do no wrong in Father's eyes. He knew that Heinrich wanted to; he hated the way Father bullied everyone. But he was afraid of him; Father was not above using violence or force to make his point. _

_"If you pass through that door, you are no son of mine," he threatened._

_Ernst stopped and turned to face him. "I never wanted to be."_

_He found her outside of the house, leaning against the side of the stable, crying. Immediately his anger faded and he softened: he'd never seen her cry before._

"_Esméralda," he called softly._

_"I'm not going in there with _that_ man!" she shouted as he approached her._

_He pulled her in close and let her sob into his chest, burying his face in her dark, soft curls._

_"I'm sorry, darling; I'm so sorry," he whispered, trying to soothe her._

_"What are we going to do?" she replied shakily._

_He thought for a moment. Father had threatened to disown him a handful of times before, but he had never actually gone through with it. Ernst didn't care now; he could go ahead and do so by all means. It posed a problem, however: it would take away every speck of both his allowance and inheritance, and he would no longer be allowed to live on the estate. There was no way he was going to allow them to be homeless, especially with winter coming soon._

_Then an idea struck him. "Do you remember that plot of land we visited a little while ago, the one my Uncle Max gave to me?"_

_He felt her nod. "With the cherries?"_

_He smiled slightly at her. He never really liked the fruit much, but he found her affinity for it amusing. "Yes, with the cherries. We could build a house there, for the three of us," he said softly, his hand moving from her hair and gently grazing her stomach._

_She sniffed a bit, trying to catch her breath. "Do you really think so?"_

_He and Heinrich had built the stable completely unassisted; a house couldn't be much harder. "Yes," he said, taking her hand and running his thumb over her knuckles. "We're going to be all right."_

_The familiar scene faded and turned to black water._

_Thump!_

Volger jolted in his seat.

She had been creeping unbidden into his thoughts and dreams as of late. They weren't just memories of her, they were his most treasured recollections he kept closest to his heart, the few he forbid himself of reminiscing over because they were so precious to him. He tried hard not to think of her, for doing so was usually accompanied by several unpleasant feelings of guilt and anger, but he just couldn't will himself to stop. It was like she had broken down the barrier he had worked so hard to build in a single blow.

It was always a different, random memory of her but the ending was consistently the same: an image of a dark ocean. He had no idea what it meant. Neither he nor she had any connections with the sea – at least, none that he knew of.

The door of the mechanikal cab opened quietly, but was loud enough to break his train of thought. Bauer, also just waking up, stretched his neck and hopped out.

"Is this it?" Bauer asked once their bags were unloaded and the cab was driving away.

Volger took the folded paper from his pocket, holding it up to the light so he could see. The characters on the sign matched those on the paper; it must have been the same hotel Alek and Deryn were staying at. "Yes, I do believe so."

"It's beautiful here," Bauer remarked as he opened the door to go inside.

The small lobby felt very Japanese to Volger. Very short tables with cushions were placed here and there. There were small, decorative vases and an enormous blue-and-white plate sitting on a shelf. be A small, gray cat was sitting atop the reception desk, flicking its tail this way and that. Bauer walked up to the feline and began petting it while looking about.

"I don't know that there's anyone here," he muttered.

Just then, small footsteps came from behind them. A small, elderly woman walked in. "_Kon'nichiwa_!" she said as she bowed at them.

Bauer smiled and mimicked the bow. With various hand motions and in rather choppy English, he communicated that they were scheduled to arrive earlier that day but were terribly late. She seemed to understand, for she went behind the desk and returned with a key. She motioned for them to follow her as she went down the hallway.

They passed paintings with symbols and people on them, most interesting of which were the samurai. Volger always found the discipline of the samurai admirable and remembered one particular lesson he had put together based on them for Alek. He was just a boy at the time and had found it perfectly boring, of course, but Volger had rather enjoyed it.

Bauer nodded gratefully when she opened the red door to their room and held it open for them. Volger set his things down onto the floor next to one of the two beds with a soft _thud!_.

"Is there anything else?" she said softly from the doorway.

"Do you know where the Hohenbergs are?" Volger asked.

She thought for a moment, and then a look of realization came over her face. "Ah! Hohenbergs," she said as she motioned to the door directly across from theirs.

Volger nodded. "Thank you."

She smiled, bowed slightly, and walked away.

"Are you going to bed?" Bauer asked while kicking off his shoes.

"I'm just going to tell them we're here," the Count said as he went to the door.

Bauer yawned. "All right. I'm just going to rest my eyes for a moment. Let's wake up early and go exploring in the morning…" The last part of his statement faded as he started snoring softly.

Volger decided then and there that he wouldn't be waking up early to do any exploring. If Bauer wanted to, he was perfectly capable of doing it himself. Volger had had plenty of 'exploring' with Bauer. Evidently to him it meant 'getting carelessly lost', which is exactly what happened in Poland, hence their tardiness.

The day after Alek and Deryn had left Italy, he and Bauer began their train trip to Japan. Evidently the man had distant relatives in Russia and Croatia he longed to visit, so he proposed they stop there. Volger was a bit nervous about Russia, since they did not look to Clankers kindly. But Bauer insisted that his relatives were very accepting.

And how odd they had turned out to be. In Croatia, Jožica (whom Bauer referred to as aunt but had later explained he had no idea how or if they were related) had stalked Volger around the house insisting he appraise her collection of wild boar tusks. She was an avid, determined collector.

In Omsk, they attended a wedding for Bauer's cousin, Sasha. He was a nice fellow, but had tricked the two of them into attending a Bolshevik meeting. The grouped declared their distaste for Clankers immediately and it didn't end well. Needless to say, they left Omsk in rather a hurry.

It had been a most eventful trip.

He stood there for a moment, debating whether or not to knock. He and Bauer had been expected to arrive that afternoon, which was hours ago. They hadn't been able to send any sort of message either, and if Volger knew Alek, he had probably been a bit worried.

But they were probably sleeping. It wasn't _that_ pressing. They were, after all, right across the hallway; there was no way they would miss each other in the morning.

So the Count turned back to go into his own room and attempt to sleep when he saw the door at the end of the hall was open. He moved closer to it and upon further inspection concluded that it led to a garden. There were strings of lit paper lanterns hung on tall sticks, thus illuminating various plants and a path to some sort of pagoda in the center.

He was tired, but he knew there was far too much on his mind to get any sleep. Besides, some fresh air might help clear his head, so he walked on outside.

The surface of the small pond reflected the bright, waxing sliver of moon in the sky. No, it was waning. He had never been able to keep the two of them straight. Esmé had always kept a close account of the moon's phases. She said it was the protector of the gypsies, and as long as the moon was in the sky they would wander the earth.

_"Everyone knows gypsies' souls go to the Moon when they die," she informed him one day for no particular reason._

_He moved closer to her._ _"But my soul shall miss yours."_

_She laughed. "You can just look up at the Moon and I will look back at you."_

Volger's thoughts were interrupted by a voice calling from the pagoda. "Count?"

He squinted in the dark and saw Deryn. "Barking spiders!" she exclaimed, pulling the robe she was wearing closer against her and emerging from the structure. "You're here!"

"Hello," he said when she came closer.

"What took you so barking long?" she inquired, choosing to pay no mind to niceties.

He really shouldn't be surprised by now. "We were delayed in Poland, actually."

"Oh," she said. "Should've taken an air beast."

He rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed. He was born and raised to despise fabricated creatures of any sort and he planned on going to the grave doing so.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked.

"I could ask you the same thing," he answered, joining in her unceremonious manner.

She shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. Is Bauer here, too?"

He nodded.

"That's nice. Alek will be glad," she said quietly, turning back towards the small structure. "You can sit with me if you like."

For perhaps the first time in knowing her, he felt rather awkward. He and Deryn hadn't spoken since they had both been in the Congo, when she had saved his life. He wasn't in the mood to talk, nor did he know what to say.

But then again, perhaps conversation would take his mind off of things. "May I?"

Volger sank down into the cushion opposite of Deryn. She moved her hands from the table to her lap; perhaps she felt a bit uncouth as well.

He cleared his throat. "Have you and Alek been well?"

She nodded vigorously. "Oh, aye; we're having a lovely time."

"Good," he said quietly.

"Are you well?"

He nodded. "I am, thank you."

Crickets chirped, filling the silence between them.

"You're looking better than you did in Africa," she added, chuckling wryly.

He had been struggling with Consumption for years; it came and went for the most part. It became steadily worse two years ago, right after Alek had taken the throne. It was manageable, for Hoffman helped him quite a lot, but became quite severe all of the sudden a few months ago. The Count decided that he would go to Africa as promised, choosing to help Alek rather than himself. He did it because he wanted to help him, he wanted someone even if it wasn't him to find his son, and he knew Alek would do so if asked. But it turned out he didn't need to ask, for when he was lying on the ground dying, Deryn's quick thinking and some sort of strange remedy saved him entirely; there hadn't been a trace of sickness left in his body since. The remedy was originally intended for her, and the reason why she had given it to him so quickly and without hesitation had been puzzling him since.

"Why did you do it?" he asked bluntly.

"I didn't want you to die," she said plainly. "I wanted you to find your son."

"But why? What did you have to gain?"

She smirked, looking as though she enjoyed his curiosity. "Nothing. Just because you may not care about people doesn't mean they don't care about you."

Count Volger blinked. Given, it wasn't entirely true: he did care about certain people, but he was impressed. The uncharacteristic profoundness from the statement made him see for the first time that she was no longer the fifteen-year old cross dressing adolescent he had once known; she was a mature, grown woman.

"And that doesn't mean I like you all the time either, mind," she added with a cackle.

Well, matur_ing_.

"I think deep down you're not really the crusty old Count you appear to be. I think you're good."

She would never change.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, you went to Congo to save Alek, right? And you knew you were dying. That's got to count for something."

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Speaking if his princeliness," Deryn yawned. "I'd better get back before he misses me."

Volger nodded. "Of course. If he-"

"Aye," she said with another yawn as she got up. "If he's awake, I'll tell him you're here. Are you coming in?" she asked when he didn't stand up.

"I will in a moment, thank you."

"Suit yourself. Goodnight, Count."

"Goodnight."

He gazed up at the glowing moon through the crooked tree branches, and he couldn't help but wonder if Esmé was looking down at him.

Or better yet, if she was looking up at it as well.


	5. Colossus

**Thank you Jett-Wolfe98, SecretKeeper1095, and the Queen of Darkness and Evil (what a name!) for the lovely reviews! :) Each of you is wonderful! :)**

**All original characters and plotline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

"So this is _Colossus_," Newkirk said, flabbergasted.

Not as impressed, Volger muttered, "Indeed."

"And appropriately so," Bauer agreed.

"Blisters," Deryn said under her breath as she gazed up at the sails of the enormous galleon towering in the sky.

Bovril repeated the curse from Alek's shoulder.

Alek craned his neck to look up at the flag flittering about in the wind at the top of the tallest mast. He could only imagine how huge the flag itself was if it looked large from where they were standing.

They were on the docks in Osaka Bay. Alek wondered at first if they'd have trouble finding the ship, for the bay was filled with fishing boats and junks and schooners of all kinds. However, once they'd trekked down the boardwalk there was no missing the galleon that stood taller than everything else in the water.

Bauer was right about the name being fitting, for the ship itself was colossal in size. Alek hadn't seen many ships like this in his lifetime, given that Austria was a landlocked country and his parents had only taken him to the sea a few times. It was a very beautiful vessel, one he imagined might be in one of the adventure novels he immersed himself in when he was younger. Secretly, after reading such stories, he'd imagined himself having his own enormous ship and going on adventures. He'd cross blades with pirates, never have to go to another lesson, and be rewarded in plenty of gold, naturally. It all ended, though, when Count Volger caught him during a heated battle with Blackbeard and explained to him in great detail scurvy, diseased rats, and other miseries aboard sailing vessels.

"What do you reckon that is?" Deryn asked aloud to no one in particular, pointing to something on the side.

"That is the bulwark," Alek answered nonchalantly.

She looked at him with an amused expression. "How did you know that?"

"I read about ships a lot when I was younger," he answered.

She let out a soft laugh. "I can't imagine you as a sailor."

"Well, I didn't like them _that_ much."

She turned to him. "You don't swear enough anyways."

As they continued down the deck while admiring the galleon, Alek noticed that the front end was covered in some sort of metal. It couldn't have been gold, for that would have been much too heavy and wouldn't have been sensible to have on a sailing ship, but it whatever it was, it was pale yellow.

The figurehead on the bow of the ship was unlike any Alek had ever seen before. It was of a man, and it took up the entire front of the ship, really. The man's face reminded him of a statue he had seen in Florence when he was younger. It was not only realistic, but his expression looked quite earnest as well. The workmanship was quite incredible. Pale yellow curls were carved on his head, as well as a gleaming crown of laurel. There was much definition in his arms and chest; there were even veins and wrinkles visible on the hand clinging to the side of the ship. The other was extended and pointing upwards just under the prow, as though he was reaching for something. Or perhaps he was directing.

"Good morning!" came a voice. The group turned and looked to see the Captain coming down the gangplank (really, with the ship being so large, it was more like a staircase). He was dressed very elaborately, wearing a blue captain's coat with gold embellishments such as tassels and buttons and the like. The coat came down almost to his knees, where white pants peeked out from underneath and tall black boots gleamed in the light. He had a dark blue turban on his head. There was something rather severe about his face; whether it was his piercing eyes looking out from underneath his dark eyebrows or the way he kept his mouth straight under his squared-off beard and curled mustache. He smiled bowed to them when he reached the dock and went about shaking hands and greeting each of them pleasantly.

Everyone returned his greeting just as a great deal of noise came from the gangplank. A black, shiny seal wearing a thin gold collar came sliding down the stairs and bouncing up to the Captain's side. He knelt down at the creature's level and kissed it on the nose, earning a disgusted sound from Bovril and a look from Volger.

"Can you say 'hello'?" he asked it. The seal barked at them, then bounded over to Deryn happily. It rubbed its wet snout all over her hand as she reached down to pet it. Bovril made a displeased, rather jealous noise from Alek's shoulder.

Captain Dakkar smiled. "This is Lady Kalinda."

Volger looked down at the creature with great distaste as Newkirk backed slowly away, but Bauer and Deryn bent right down to pet it.

"However did you tame her?" Alek asked. It was probably a silly question, for seals weren't known for their ferocity; at least, not from what Alek had heard. All he knew was that Bovril didn't like this one, and that had been indicated from the loris's claws digging into his shoulder with an uncomfortably tight grip.

"We found her years ago, off the coast of Iceland. She was floating through the water, sick, so we took her aboard," he said as he petted her. "It seemed cruel to leave her to drown or be eaten, so I nursed her back to health and she has been at my side ever since. He stood. "What do you think of my ship?"

"It's magnificent, sir," Newkirk said.

"Thank you. I cannot help but agree with you. My life's work," he said proudly as he turned and looked up at it. "Please, come aboard! We're just getting ready to leave."

They followed the captain as he stepped up the staircase, the seal bounding up ahead of them. "It has taken me twenty years to construct from start to finish."

"What's it made out of, sir?" Newkirk asked.

Deryn couldn't resist an insult. "Wood, _dummkopf._"

But the captain didn't hear her. "We found that wood from the cypress tree worked well and needed no altering, but they are so few in number we fabricated our own. The bow and stern are covered in aluminum, the color of which has been manipulated."

As they ascended up the stairs, window-like squares of wood in the side of the ship went up. Two men appeared in either one, nodded in greeting, and proceeded to toss out dead fish. When they landed in the water, Alek noticed a great deal of splashing in the water far below.

Captain Dakkar topped and looked over the side. "Ah! They're just feeding the hydra now."

"Hydra, sir?" Newkirk asked uncertainly, looking down and looking quite nervous.

"Yes," the captain answered. "A form of sea snake fabricated with the life threads of an ancient water-dwelling creature. The good Doctor Barlow, actually, was kind enough to create them."

"How do you control them?" Deryn asked while looking down at the splashing.

"The anchor," he said. "They are free to swim about wherever they please, though they won't attack without being told to do so. When we need them, we drop the anchor and it gives off a series of pulses into the water, which in turn calls them to the ship. The trainers have whistles that give them more specific instructions."

"Like kappa," Deryn said.

"The two are rather similar," Dakkar said, going up the stairs once again.

"What sort of weapons do you have aboard?" Bauer asked.

"Cannons, though we don't usually have them," the Captain answered. "I wish to sail, not to fight! However, there's been talk of pirates roaming the seas as of late."

"Pirates?" Volger repeated skeptically.

"I am afraid so. Of course, we haven't run into any in years and it is incredibly unlikely we should meet any. However unlikely it is, notwithstanding, I want us to be prepared!"

"Of course," the Count said as they crossed onto the deck.

Looking down over the railing made Alek dizzy; the green water was so far down. And there were hydra there as well which made it even more unwelcoming. Looking up was no help either; the incredible height of the masts made him feel uneasy.

The deck was bustling with people, young and not-so-young, dark and pale. The only similarity among them was that they were all wearing the same sort of clothing Deryn, Alek, Bauer, and Newkirk had been given. Only the crew members were wearing a colored sash on the middle, like a thick belt, and it appeared that only a few people had the same color. The people lifting and stacking things were wearing red sashes as well as those that were mopping the deck. The few people low enough to see in the rigging wore a teal color. Alek saw dark yellow, green, blue, orange, and purple sash-wearers milling about on the deck. He suspected it was some way of keeping everyone organized and if so, it was quite a clever method.

People saluted and greeted the captain as the passed. On the upper deck, there was a very well-dressed, swarthy fellow who appeared to be supervising the activities. Next to him stood Haamid, the captain's assistant.

"Mr. Brandon!" the Captain said loudly.

The man looked down at them and nodded, then walked down the short staircase and over to where they were standing. "This is the Quartermaster," the Captain said.

Mr. Brandon nodded at everyone politely, bowing slightly when he saw Deryn. "It is an honor to have you all aboard," he said. They way he spoke, very articulate and slow, made Alek think of Themba, whom he had met in Africa. Perhaps Mr. Brandon came from Africa as well.

He turned to the captain. "We 're just getting ready to leave port, sir."

"Yes, of course!"

Mr. Brandon nodded at the captain and then at them as he walked back to the helm. "Sailing positions!" he bellowed.

Crew members came from all directions scurrying about to their designated areas.

"We'll go to the bridge," Captain Dakkar declared as he began walking towards the back of the ship again.

Alek began walking, only to notice the Count wasn't following. He looked back: the Count was just where they had been a moment before, only he was staring up at the rigging. Something must have caught his eye.

"Count," Alek said, tugging sharply on the man's sleeve. "This way."

Volger turned and looked at him for a moment, as though he didn't understand what he had said.

"We're going this way," Alek repeated.

"Oh!" he said as he began following.

Alek raised an eyebrow at him.

"Just thought I saw something," Volger said quickly.

Haamid was waiting for them at the door to the bridge, holding it open. "We have much to discuss!"


	6. Cintāmaṇi

**Cita: I'm insanely excited to hear from you. :) Thank you for reading and reviewing! :D**

**And thank you to Jett and EllieStone as well for being most excellent and reviewing as well! As usual, you all are awesome and I appreciate it so much! :)**

**_Cintāma_****_ṇ_****_i _****is the Hindu name for the philosopher's stone. It's pronounced just the way it looks! I originally planned on just referring to it as the philosopher's stone, but I didn't want it to get mixed up with Harry Potter (which I do not own). In legends, the philosopher's stone is essentially a magic rock that will give you ultimate power/grant you wishes. It is most popular in alchemy, in which it is supposed to turn base metals to gold. Magnum Opus is the process of finding/creating the philosopher's stone and to my knowledge, no one has succeeded in finding it. Yet. ;)**

******A compass rose is the drawing on a map of a compass.**

**Some ship anatomy:**

**-Remember in _Leviathan_ when Deryn ran up the ratlines? Ratlines (pronounced rattlins; I just learned that today!) are the ropes that sailors climb up to the mast and sails. The mast, sails, and ratlines essentially make up the rigging on a ship.**

**-The powder magazine is where the cannons and explosives are kept. Interesting fact, the people that worked in the powder magazines, "powder monkeys", where often chosen only if they were short in stature. They name Finnegan means "little fair one", which was too perfect to pass up. :D**

**-The yard of a sail is the long piece of wood that holds it to the mast.**

**-A marlinspike is like a giant needle that people use to mend sails and fix ropes! When ropes become uncoiled and unbraided, marlinspikes are used to help put them back together, or join a separate rope into them.**

**All original characters and plotline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

**"**Cintāmaṇi," the Captain said loudly once everyone was seated.

"Sin-tan-who?" Deryn asked.

"Cintāmaṇi," he repeated, enunciating each syllable quite purposely. He waited for a response, but everyone around the table was quiet. "Perhaps one of you has heard of the philosopher's stone?"

Newkirk perked up. "The supposed stone that is said to be able to give the possessor unlimited gold?"

Everyone looked at him and blinked.

"How did you know that?" Volger asked with a touch of incredulousness.

He shrugged. "My brother studied philosophy when I was younger. He used to tell me stories about it. If I remember correctly, it was of great interest to the alchemists."

"Your memory serves you well, Mr. Newkirk!" said the captain. "Cintāmaṇi is the name we refer to it in my culture. It is said to hold great power and be able to do far more than just turn ordinary objects into gold."

"What else can it do?" Newkirk asked.

"Immortality," he answered. "For a long time, alchemists used to seek this stone for the purpose you stated earlier – to feed their insatiable desire for gold. But it was sought by others as well - those with no interest in riches. _Cintāma__ṇ__i _is said to hold the power of the heavens in itself."

"But what_ is_ it?" Bauer asked.

"It is said to be a stone," Dakkar said simply. "Small and white according to the legends, though I don't know anyone that has ever seen it to confirm the stories. It is the very purpose I gathered you together to join me on my journey!"

Deryn raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You mean we're not here to study animals?"

He smiled. "Where we are going is said to have great biological wonders, but I had hoped you would be willing to assist me in this search as well. If we are successful, we will be able to help thousands of people!"

"So you're an alchemist?" Bauer said.

"No, don't be absurd!" the Captain said as though Bauer had suggested something completely outrageous. "I seek this trinket for one purpose only: to take it away and shut it up from the world."

Volger cleared his throat. "Are you saying, Captain, that you wish to take the knowledge away from the world, so that no one else will seek it out?"

Captain Dakkar smiled. "Precisely!"

"But why?"

"Well, for a number of reasons. Imagine what it would be like if someone got their hands on the stone, unknowing of the power they possessed."

"Or someone who knew full well what it would do," Haamid added. "And how to use it."

"That is, of course, given that the _legends_ are true," Volger said.

"Count, you are correct. Even if the stories are completely false, where we are going is quite precarious to navigate; I wouldn't want anyone unqualified to go in the same direction!"

"Precarious?" Alek repeated. "Where exactly are we going?"

"A navigational gray area, if you will. No maps of the place exist."

Newkirk looked concerned. "With all due respect, sir, if there's no maps, how do you know where we're going?"

Captain Dakkar appeared quite pleased with the question. "Isle Moros_._ No maps of the place exist, save for one. A crew member who wishes to remain anonymous has generously donated it."

"Donated?" Volger repeated.

"Yes, he approached me months ago with the map. At first I believed it to be a fake, but upon further inspection I can find no fault with it. Here, I will show you." He snapped for his assistant.

Haamid came to the table carrying a scroll case nearly as tall as he was. He removed the cap and unrolled it onto the table. Everyone removed their hands or elbows from the top as the yellowed edges of the enormous charts almost draped into their laps.

Alek leaned forward to look. In front of him was a compass rose, but the directions were all mixed up and didn't make any sense. The writing in the legend didn't look like any writing he had ever seen before; the letters were almost rune-like. The pictures were odd as well; almost blurry, as though the artist had made several layers to them.

Further down the table towards Newkirk there was the top of the map; at least, it appeared to be. There was a banner with small, black drawings inside of it that reminded Alek very much of something he had read about in _the Odyssey_. The depiction, however, too far down the table for him to see completely.

"It's written… backwards?" Deryn said after a moment of studying the part in front of her.

"Indeed it is! And written in ancient Greek as well; an ingenious aegis, really. However, our anonymous crew member knows the language well and was willing to translate for us. Haamid, if you will."

The man rolled up that map, placed it back in its case, and laid down another one in its place. It was an exact copy of the original, only the directions and pictures were written out properly and the words were in English.

Written out right in front of Alek were letters he could see quite well. They spelled, "THE EARTH AND SEA ARE FULL OF EVILS." He wasn't sure what it meant.

The illustrations were elaborate and incredibly well-done. In the middle of the vast ocean, amidst rocks and ships, sea serpents and sharks, there was a large island. Trees were drawn on it here and there as well as various animals one would expect to see on an island in the middle of the ocean.

And then there were some one might not expect, such as what looked like very strange, humanoid bats. A very large lion sat at the path leading to a sort of castle on a ledge that overlooked the bay of the island. And at the top of that there was a sort of griffin. Perhaps it was a griffin, perhaps not: Bovrl jumped onto the table and sat itself right on that particular spot.

"I understand, Count Volger, that you are exceptional in cartography," the Captain said after a moment. He had a stack of typical-sized papers in front of him that he was looking at.

Alek looked at him. "You are?"

"I've studied a few maps before," he said quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "How may I be of service to you, Captain?"

"I'm going to put you with Haamid! He will be in charge of the control room and navigation. There are still parts of this map we do no fully understand. We could certainly use your expertise."

The Count nodded. "I would be glad to."

"Excellent! Mr. Bauer, I was hoping you would be able to work with the crew on the deck. It's not terribly exciting, but there will be enough to keep you busy."

Bauer smiled. "Thank you, sir."

"Mr. Newkirk," the Captain said, flipping through another page. "Mr. Finnegan is in great need of another pair of hands in the powder magazine."

"Yes, sir! It'd be my pleasure," Newkirk agreed enthusiastically.

"Deryn," he said as he wet his finger and turned a page. "I understand that you like the sky."

She leaned forward in her seat. "Aye, sir; I do."

He smiled. "While I have no airships, I can put you fairly high. The head rigger is very good at what he does and would be glad to have you."

She grinned. "Thank you, sir!"

Alek cleared his throat. Surely if Deryn was to have such an exciting job he might be able to as well.

"Ah, yes! I do apologize, Aleksandar, but the only available place I have left is in the galley."

"The galley?" he repeated, not entirely sure if he heard the man correctly.

Alek heard a snort poorly disguised as a cough and he turned to see Deryn biting the insides of her cheeks and making all sorts of faces in a half-hearted attempt to suppress her apparently overwhelming mirth. Bovril joined in with her.

He could practically taste the irony. Whenever they had talked about being on board the ship, Alek had tried to gently tell her to not be disappointed if the Captain didn't let her do anything: she was, after all, a woman and though they both knew she could do anything a man could (and then some), they didn't know if the Captain shared the same viewpoint. He didn't want her to get her hopes up.

She'd told him he was just being a misogynistic bum-rag, naturally.

It wasn't that he thought he would be any better at it than her: by all means, she was far more skilled in that area than he would ever be. It was just the idea of her being up so high tossing things about and running on yards of the sails. He trusted her perfectly; it was the elements that made him nervous.

Of course, she would be perfectly annoyed with him if he told her that.

* * *

Deryn grinned to herself. _Barking right I'll work in the rigging!_ She'd been aching for the sky for ages now and while it wasn't the same, being up in the ropes was as close as she was going to get.

"Be careful," Alek said, catching her hand as she got up from her seat while the rest of the room dispersed.

She smiled at him and leaned down to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Aye, and you too. Throwing those pots and pans about is pure dead dangerous."

He frowned at her. "I'm being serious. And make sure you don't hurt your knee."

She smirked when she saw Volger roll his eyes as she kissed him again. Good, he could roll his eyes as much as he wanted and that wouldn't do a thing. Not that it ever did much anyways. They were married now and she would kiss him whenever pleased, thank you very much.

"Aye, I'll be fine."

Haamid directed her to go to the main mast, where there was a person waiting. He was very tall: taller than her and taller than Alek.

The young man turned around and smiled at her. "You must be Deryn?"

She nodded and shook his extended hand.

"I'm Wolfgang. It's nice to meet you."

Wolfgang had a strangely handsome face. Not that she was mooning over him, mind; Alek was much handsomer. Perhaps it wasn't even that he was particularly handsome; there was just something very _different_ about the way he looked. Everything except for his eyes was tan and dark: they were bright and a queer, almost golden color. She'd never seen eyes like that and probably wouldn't have noticed at all if he hadn't been standing in the sunlight. Five o'clock shadow graced the lower half of his face as did a bright smile and the ends of his hair reached just to his shoudlers. Perhaps this was the definition of the tall, dark, and handsome men Deryn's aunties had always squealed about and fawned over when she was younger. If it was, they could by all means keep him.

"Sorry?" she said, snapping out of her thoughts when she realized he had been speaking to her.

He smiled. "I was just asking how long you two have been married."

That caught her by surprise. Not that she cared, but she hadn't said anything. "How did you-"

"The way he looks at you," he answered, looking over her shoulder towards Alek. He was standing at the door of the bridge with Bovril on his shoulder, probably lollygagging on his way to the kitchens. "And the way he's watching me," he added with a chuckle. "I can't say I blame him, though. That and you're wearing a wedding band."

"Oh," she said, looking down at her hand, feeling perfectly silly. "Only a few weeks."

He smiled again. "Congratulations, then. You make a lovely couple."

"Thanks," she said. "He's brilliant."

"I'm sure! I hope you don't mind heights?" he asked, hefting a large sack over his shoulder.

"Oh, no; heights don't bother me a squick."

"Good, because we're going to be spending most of our time up there on the topmasts," he said, pointing to the small deck on the mast high above them. "I was just about to go up with these coils." He motioned to three piles of rope just beside him. "Do you'd think you'd be all right..?"

It took her a moment to realize that he was trying to be polite because of her gender. She found that rather annoying, so she took two coils; crisscrossed across her front and shoulders, just to teach him.

He raised an eyebrow at her bemusedly, took the other coil, and walked over to the edge of the ship. The vessel was moving now, albeit slowly, and Osaka Bay was beginning to fade into the distance.

"That's the last time we'll be seeing land for a while," he remarked as he jumped onto the railing and up into the rope ladder. She waited for him to clear some of the distance, so they wouldn't bump into each other, before doing the same.

"Are you sure you can take two?" he called from a ways above her.

She didn't answer but jumped onto the railing as well and stepped two notches at a time, catching up quickly.

He laughed and continued upwards.

"The Captain told me you worked on an airship," he called down to her. "What exactly did you do, if you don't mind my asking?"

She thought for a moment. Midshipman? Egg watcher? The lady boffin's cabin boy? _That_ was another story entirely. "A bit of everything."

He tossed the bag and roll of rope onto the small deck once they were high enough. He pulled himself up onto it and reached his hand down to help her up. Once she was sitting (for there wasn't a lot of room to stand), she realized how barking high up they were. Nothing but blue skies and the seascape as far as her eyes could see.

It was glorious.

"Did you ever do anything in the rigging?"

"Not very much, but I walked on the ratlines plenty."

"That's good," he said, reaching into the sack. He brought out two enormous needles. "We'll be doing a bit of that up here, though it's mostly been mending the sails and ropes. We were pulled into a terrible storm in Santorini that did a number on the rigging."

He reached for a pile of ropes that they had hauled up. They looked like that had seen better days.

"Have you ever spliced anything?"

She remembered the time the rainstorm when she and Alek ended up fixing Mr. Tesla's barking ridiculous radio. "Wire, but not rope. I can tie knots plenty, though."

"Rope isn't any harder than that, I should think. It's probably easier, actually. And that is perfectly agreeable because I am terrible with knots. Here," he said, handing her one of the giant needles. "Just take the marlinspike and do what I do."


	7. Galley Boy

**Thankyouthankyouthankyou Jett-Wolfe-98, EllieStone, and MistressMine for the reviews! I appreciate it SO much! :D You are all awesome!**

**All original characters and plotline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

******Basil is pronounced "Baz-ill" :)**

**:)**

Alek squinted in the sunlight as he watched Deryn followed the dark-haired figure up the ratlines. He felt a tad of nervousness but knew she would be glad to be up so near to the sky.

"Lollygagger," Bovril muttered into his ear, imitating her lilt.

"Yes, yes," he said to the creature. "I think it's this way," he said as he turned the corner.

Down at the bottom of the steps, he saw a man sitting with his legs stretched out over the bottom stair. He looked quite wild; his hair was unkempt and stuck out in several directions, as though he'd just woken up. He was holding an apple in one hand; it looked as though he had been whittling it. In his other hand he held a small paring knife. But it was his actual hand that was interesting: it was not made of flesh and bone as hands usually are but rather metal and gears. The metal was formed to look just like how one's bones and tendons must look under the skin, only the dark color of steel, of course. His sleeve was rolled up just to the forearm, exposing the whirling mechaniks as he moved his dark, pointy fingers. Alek found himself staring at it as he slowly descended the stairs; it was fascinating to watch it work. Everything must have been incredibly well-oiled for he moved that hand just as naturally as the other. Alek wondered if the entire arm was that way.

"Way hay and up she rises, way hay and up she rises, way hay and up she rises early in the morning," the man sang softly as steadily moved the knife, causing bits of apple to fall onto the floor.

Alek stepped on a creaky stair and the man looked over the round glasses balanced on the end of his nose and directly at him.

"Oh, hullo! You must be the new galley boy the cap'n sent?" he said in a cockney accent.

He nodded as he stepped off the final step, though he didn't particularly enjoy the term "galley boy". But coming from this man, who looked much older than him; probably close to Count Volger's age, Alek didn't really mind.. "Yes, sir. I'm Alek."

"_Sir_?" he repeated, chuckling a bit. "It's Basil to my friends. Pleasure to meet you, Alek," he said as he stuck of the mechanikal hand.

Alek couldn't help but glance down at it. From his shoulder, he heard Bovril imitate the whirring of the gears.

"Oh, that!" Basil said, looking down at the appendage. He dropped the apple and knife into his apron pocket and rose. "Lost that serving in the Royal Navy!" he said as he flexed his wrist and fingers.

"You mean… that," Alek said as he motioned to the arm, "is a Darwinist creation?"

"No, 'course not! While I was aboard the _HMS Ondine_, I fell overboard during a battle. Thought I was done for sure until I washed onto an island where a retired Clanker doctor happened to live. He took me in and fashioned me a new arm. Can't say I would have chosen it, but it was awful nice of him."

Alek finally took his hand and shook it, a bit surprised at the coldness of the steel. "You're English, then?"

"Irish, as a matter of fact, though I was raised in London. 'Course they dispatched me after my accident. Didn't even get a medal for it! Cooking's the only work I've been able to find since. What's that with you?" he asked, motioning to Bovril.

"This is Bovril. It's my perspicacious loris," Alek answered.

"Perspicacious loris!" Bovil repeated with great enthusiasm.

Basil clicked his tongue and let out a low whistle, which was promptly echoed by the creature. "Can't say I've ever seen one of these before. Where'd you get such a thing?"

Alek cleared his throat. "A.. friend of mine created it. Doctor Nora Darwin Barlow."

Basil's eyebrows went up. "A true Darwinist creation, through and through! I bet Morgan'll like that. Come this way and I'll show you the galley."

Alek followed Basil through the small hallway, listening as he pointed at the few doors they passed, telling him that this was the pantry, that one was where he slept, and the last one was a closet completely dedicated to the collection of sea urchins (evidently the Captain had a real liking for tea steeped with them). And then they came to the end of the hall where there was a door that was divided in the middle; the top of which was open, making it more like a window. Basil opened and held it for Alek as they passed through.

The Galley was rather cramped. It probably wouldn't have been if it weren't for the maze of wide counters in the center of the room. There was a large, brick oven with stovetops on either side against the back, behind all of the counter space. Pots and pans were strewn about as well as other various dishes.

And it was positively brimming with food. Half-carved roast chickens, wheels of cheese, fruits, vegetables, and other various victuals were scattered about on the counters. Hunks of smoked meats hung from the ceiling as well as herbs, onions, and brightly-colored peppers; mounds of loaves of bread sat on countertops in the corners. The inventory was impressive. There were lots of Japanese-looking things as well: stalks of dry noodles tied together and bags of rice were scattered here and there; they must have picked those up in Osaka. A delicious, sweet smell wafted through the room. A young man zipped past them hurriedly while carrying a large cake pan filled with luscious yellow batter.

"And this here's Morgan! Morgan, lad!" Basil said.

The young man didn't acknowledge him until he had set the cake pan into the oven and closed it. He took a moment to catch his breath and smiled in their direction. He threw off his oven mitts onto the counter off to the side, where there was a half-assembled cake that looked particularly delicious. Basil walked over to inspect it.

"Bleeding carbuncles, lad! It's only _cake _for a bunch of sailors!" he said as he circled it.

Morgan smiled meekly in the direction of his voice. "That's for the captain's birthday tomorrow, actually. And I want it to look nice." He turned towards Alek. "Hello!" he said as he wiped his hand on the white apron around his waist and extended it towards Alek about a foot away in the wrong direction. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He stood there, expectantly awaiting Alek to take his hand.

"Don't mind the misbalance," Basil said casually, still admiring the cake. "Morgan here's blind."

"Blind," Bovril repeated. Alek hushed it.

"That's right, beastie! Blinder than a barnacle," Basil said as he came over and waved his hand in front of Morgan's face just to prove the point. "And the best baker in the ocean!"

Morgan smiled slightly. "I don't know about the best."

Now that Basil mentioned it, Alek noticed that Morgan's eyes were not actually gray as they looked but ever-so-slightly cloudy. It wasn't much, though; it more that they weren't focused, like he wasn't looking at anything in particular. Alek shook his hand, surprised a bit by his firm grip, and returned the greeting. "I'm Alek. It's very nice to meet you, Morgan."

Morgan smiled at him. "And who's that with you?"

"Oh, this is Bovril-"

"Says it's a 'perspicacious loris'!" Basil interrupted.

Morgan laughed. "It sounded like you had two heads for a moment. I've never met a perspicacious loris before!"

Alek chuckled slightly. "Yes, it repeats bits of conversations."

Morgan reached into a bowl behind him and came back with a piece of carrot. "Does Bovril like carrots?"

The creature cautiously leaned forward from Alek's shoulder, it's small nose wiggling as it inspected the vegetable. It grabbed the carrot from his hands quickly and greedily began nibbling on it. Morgan laughed.

"We aren't really supposed to have animals out here, so perhaps Bovril wouldn't mind spending the day with Murdoc."

He motioned to the corner of the kitchen below a round window where there was a large, blue bird sitting on a perch. It was obviously a parrot, though it had coloring Alek had never seen before. It was completely blue with a stripe of yellow around its mouth and a golden circle around its eyes. There was a silver ring around its foot attached to a cable.

"I hate keeping him tied up like this," Morgan said as he walked over. He unclipped the cord and held his arm out for the bird to crawl onto, "but we really aren't supposed to have animals down here as it is, and I know he'd be a wreck if I left him alone all day," he stated as he came back, sliding his hand along the counter for guidance. "So I figure that as long as he's not where we cook it's all right. Murdoc, say hello to Bovril."

The bird twisted its head sideways and squawked curiously. Bovril looked back at it silently with large, observant eyes, not moving. Alek took the loris from his shoulder to get it closer to the bird, at which Bovril's paws dug into Alek's hands slightly and the creature tensed up.

After a moment of staring, Murdoc broke the silence. "Bleeding carbuncles!" it said, presumably mimicking Basil.

Bovril blinked at it and then repeated the phrase. After a few exchanges, Morgan brought Murdoc back to his perch and Alek set Bovril down to follow. The beastie climbed up the wall and onto the windowsill just above the parrot and the two began chattering away.

"Are they all right?"

Alek nodded then remembered Morgan couldn't see him. "Yes, I think they'll be fine," he said as he heard Bovril echo "Haul the anchor!"

Morgan smiled then reached up into a cupboard and pulled a clean white apron. "Here, you're going to need this," he said.

Alek took it hesitantly, still not fully believing the irony of the situation, and tied it around his waist.

"Can you cook at all, Alek? Or bake by any chance?" Basil asked.

"I haven't done much of either in my lifetime, I'm afraid," Alek admitted. Though he knew he should be ashamed to admit so, Alek had secretly hoped that Deryn was a stereotypical female in the aspect of cooking. He should have known better than to confine her to such standards, however, for she was terrible at it.

"Well, there's a lot to learn, and not much time to do so. But I have faith in you. If Morgan can do it, anyone can!"

Alek swallowed, feeling slightly nervous. The most he'd ever cooked was with Hoffman, and that was a bit of bacon over a fire.

Morgan grinned, not paying much attention to the jab. "Don't listen to him," he whispered. "It's fun."


	8. Stories

**Super-special thank you to Barking lizards, Jett-Wolfe98, EllieStone, danipayne, mrdirtguy3, and MistressMine! Each of you is wonderful! :)**

**All original characters and plotline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

"And that's how we fooled them," Deryn said, just finishing a stitch. She had also just finished telling Wolfgang about her adventures aboard the _Leviathan_; how she had gotten there, meeting Alek, and all the rest.

Wolfgang laughed. "And they never found out?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. I never exactly announced it."

"And you did it because you wanted to fly," he repeated.

She nodded. "Aye, just like my Da."

"What did you say his name was? If you don't mind my asking."

"Artemis Sharp," she said proudly while tying off a stitch in the sail she was working on.

"Artemis?" he repeated.

"Aye," she said with a nod. "Why?"

"Artemis was a goddess."

"What?"

"She was the goddess of the hunt and wild animals. And women and childbirth, too."

"You're not calling my father a girl?" she said; not exactly in the mood to but quite willing to lose her temper at him if he made any such accusations.

"No, of course not! I've heard a lot of Greek names used interchangeably. It's a nice thing to be named after."

"How do you know about that?"

"My mother was Greek. When I was young, she used to tell me stories about the gods and goddesses of Olympus. Artemis was always my favorite, actually."

"What was he, I mean she, like?"

And so Wolfgang told her stories of the great goddess, and surprisingly, she found them interesting. These gods sounded perfectly annoying; especially the female ones: always arguing over who was more beautiful and the like. But Deryn found she quite liked Artemis. She was never fussy about her looks and paid no mind to the other girls and their blether about who was going to marry whom. And she hunted, too.

"I don't know anything more about her, unfortunately," he said after a while. "She stopped telling me when I got older. However, if we don't finish these sails, the ship will not be able to catch any wind. Can you hand me that rope, please?"

She reached for the rope he was motioning towards and tossed it at him.

* * *

Much to his surprise, Alek found that he actually rather liked cooking. And he wasn't nearly as awful at it as he remembered. In a way, it was fun.

But he never realized it was so much work. Making bread, for example, was an almost all-day process. When he was young, he used to sneak into the kitchen whenever the mood struck him and snatch up a piece of bread. He now felt eternally appreciative to the servants that had cooked for his family in his childhood home.

And Morgan was an excellent teacher and impressive cook himself. He was able do everything on his own; he was totally independent. But now that Alek was in the galley as well, he often asked him to measure liquids and peel any bumpy vegetables just because it was easier for him.

Alek began to suspect that he had been placed in the galley per Basil's request so that the man would be able to do less. He spent most of his time whittling apples and chicken bones with his knife while singing sea chanties and not doing much else. Of course, he often said that he couldn't be bothered to get up because of his hand, but it appeared perfectly functional to Alek. Basil was a nice fellow, but there was something about him that seemed… off. But Alek couldn't quite put his finger on it.

In fact, at that very moment he was carving a ship out of a red apple. Morgan was making bread and Alek was finishing up the Captain's birthday cake per Morgan's request. He certainly didn't think he did the decorating justice, but he wasn't too terrible at it.

"Aye," Basil muttered to no one in particular. "Bad luck having a woman aboard."

Alek smiled to himself. "Not her," he said. "She's perf-"

"Oh, I'm sure she's honest, brave, true; the whole lot," Basil interrupted. He waited for a moment before adding, "But you know what they say."

Alek stopped with the layer he had been icing and looked at the man. "What do they say?"

Basil turned and looked and both he and Morgan casually, as though he hadn't been the one to bring it up. "Women are dangerous."

Alek nearly laughed at such an accurate description of Deryn. She certainly could be.

"Ever heard of the pirate Captain Blood, Alek?"

As he said it, Alek saw Morgan out the corner of his eye silently mimicking the words as they came out of Basil's mouth. He leaned in and whispered, "He's told me this one a hundred times."

But he hadn't said it low enough for Basil not to hear. "Then let it be a hundred and one times for our friend Alek!" He put the apple he had been working on and knife aside. "Now, listen close, lads."

Morgan made a motion of rolling his eyes and went back to kneading the dough before him.

"We start with a young Frenchman," Basil began, moving his hands for emphasis. "He grew up on a farm in a terribly poor family. No matter, though, for he was a good young man. He decided to become a sailor, and it all went very well for him. He sailed on ships much like this, eventually became a captain and married a lovely lady. And that's were things started to go to the muck for him."

"See, becoming a captain and all that made him quite high and mighty; perfectly full of himself. He started drinking, keeping company with despicable sorts; it all drove his wife mad. So one night she sneaked off into the city they were docked in and never returned. Any guesses where that might have been?"

Alek shook his head.

"Tortuga," Morgan called.

"Aye! Tortuga. Home of the worst kind of folks, kinds the devil himself would call scum! She must have been some kind of desperate to get away from him."

"He wakes up the next morning to find her gone. Keep in mind this was the woman he loved more than anything. He might have been a fool but he did love her. So he goes into Tortuga to find her."

"Did he?" Alek asked.

"No. He never saw her again. But that doesn't matter, because he found someone else. Don't know her real name, but they called her the Siren of the Ocean."

"Sea," Morgan corrected.

"Aye, that's right: Siren of the Sea. She was the self-made pirate queen of the Indian Ocean; most feared lady in the water. And she was mighty beautiful, so once the Frenchman lays eyes on her, he forgets all about his wife and these two fall terribly in love. Turns out he was an awfully impressionable sort, so this lady persuaded him to shack up with her and do every piratey thing you could imagine."

"They pilfered and pillaged every town and port in the ocean 'till they was filthy rich. Not only in gold, but in land and livestock and the like. They easily could have made a life for themselves anywhere, but they kept pirating because they liked it. Then one day, seemingly without provocation, she packs up her share and leaves him. Doesn't take a single coin or trinket of his save for something very small."

Just then Kalinda came bounding down the stairs. She ran up to Alek and jumped about excitedly.

"She wants a treat," Morgan said with his hands full of dough. "Would you mind?"

Alek reached into the bowl of carrots and tossed her a misshapen one. She caught it, spat it out, and continued barking obnoxiously.

"What did you give her?" Morgan asked.

"A carrot," answered Alek.

"Oh, the jar under the cupboards," he responded, still kneading. "I think it's to your left."

Alek looked at the jar skeptically. "These are cigars."

Morgan nodded. "The Captain dropped one on the floor once and she ate it right up. She loves them. He makes sure we keep them for her."

"You're sure?" he asked once more. Morgan nodded. He shrugged and gave it to the seal, much to her delight. She ate it and hustled back up the stairs.

"I've never heard of a seal with such expensive taste," Alek said, examining her treats. Each one was wrapped in brown paper and had a fancy gold stamp pressed onto it.

"Spoiled is what that is," Basil said. "The Cap'n loves that seal more than anything. Just a hunk of barking blubber I say. Ought to be thrown back into the ocean where she belongs!"

Alek almost agreed with him but didn't as he remembered Bovril. Some people, specifically Count Volger, thought his relationship with the loris was silly and foolish, but he did love the creature, in a way. He couldn't imagine letting the loris go.

He decided to change the subject. "What did she do? The lady pirate?"

"Oh, right!" Basil smiled wickedly. "They say she buried the pilfered prize on her private island, one only she knew how to get to. An island of terrors it was."

"What did the Captain do?"

"Well, he did what any sensible pirate would do: he went after her. See, it wasn't just _any_ trinket or jewel she took, they say it was something more valuable than anything anyone could imagine. He still had mountains of gold left, but he didn't care about any of that so much as this trinket. The Captain worked mighty hard getting it in the first place, and he wanted it back."

"What was it?"

Basil shrugged. "Some say they stole it from the gods themselves, others say that it was luck that washed aboard their ship during a storm."

"Did he get it back?"

"We'll never know. He couldn't find the island to begin with and his ship supposedly sank in the middle of the sea. So he lost his lady and his treasure and had nothing left, so he boarded another ship and was so full of rage he killed every man on board, save for a few."

"And he never left another merchant alive," Basil finished. "He was the brutalist pirate ever to sail. Do you know why they called him Cap'n Blood?"

"Why?" Alek asked, more interested than he realized.

Basil leaned in close and said in a low voice, "They say the sea ran red wherever he sailed, if you know what I mean. Left no survivors."

"Then how do you know what happened?" Morgan asked, clever smile on his face.

Alek laughed.

"Laugh if you will, boys, but I swear on me own heart it's true."

"And how do we know that?"

He shrugged. "I suppose we don't. But we're sure to find out when we reach our destination."

"What do you mean by that?" Alek asked.

"The trinket, the island. From what I've heard, it sounds a lot like the place this ship is headed." He looked at Alek.

"Does it?"

He shrugged. "You tell me. I wasn't allowed in that meeting the cap'n held yesterday when we left port. 'Twas mighty exclusive."

Alek swallowed. He hadn't realized that the Captain had meant to keep it a secret from the crew.

But just then the bell rang, saving him from what would have been an undoubtedly awkward answer.

"No matter, I suppose. You boys should be taking that cake up now."


	9. Waves

**Thank you EllieStone, Jett, and mrdirtguy3 for the reviews! You rock! :)**

**Righto, so someone asked me about the froemast and all that. It can be a little confusing (I'm no good at explaining these things!), so if you absolutely don't understand my explanation (I really can't blame you), just search "ship's anatomy" online and some great pictures should come up! :)**

**Here's some ship anatomy for you:****  
****So we've got the mast, right? On a big ship like this, there are THREE masts, the middle being the tallest. Each mast holds sails, right? The bottom sails are big and billowy and the top sails, cleverly called topsails, are above them. Each sail is held by a long wooden rod called a YARD. On each mast there are ratlines that lead up to small decks sort of in the middle of each mast. These are called the mizzenmast (if you're looking at a ship from the side, this is the one closest to the back), the main mast (in the middle; where Deryn and Wolfgang hang out most of the time), and the foremast (the front). The crow's nest is above the main mast at the tippety top where the flag would be. They're going to be running on the yards fixing sails and ropes so they crow's nest wouldn't have had much convenience!**

**Also, the CAPSTAN is sort of like a big, mounted, sideways wheel. There are spokes all around it usually, and is turned to reel in the anchor.**

**All original characters and plotline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

The Captain's birthday turned out to be quite an affair.

There was great feasting, music, and much, much laughter; all in between regular duties, of course. _Colossus _was anchored far off the Osaka coast; with nothing around them but water and sky as far as the eye could see.

The crew's dedication and loyalty to the Captain was admirable. They sang him songs, wished him an especially excellent birthday. Newkirk and Mr. Finnegan, the powder monkeys, had gotten in the spirit of things as well and had taken out one of the lifeboats with a great heap of fireworks to set off in the Captain's honor.

And Alek was on his way to the topmast to sit with Deryn to watch them. As he passed a group of sailors with musical instruments, he heard Basil order one of them to "give it a lash!". He had no idea what it meant, but immediately after he'd said it the fiddler picked up his speed. He chuckled as he placed Bovril onto his shoulder and gazed up at the rigging.

How Deryn enjoyed climbing up and down on the ropes all day he'd never understand. Still, though, he didn't mind; he'd be glad to see her. It was a silly notion; they hadn't been sailing for a long period of time at all, but he was beginning to miss her. They weren't allowed to sleep together, of course, which was understandable, though neither of them were particularly enthused by the idea. But still, it was the Captain's ship, after all, and he had been generous enough to let Deryn have his quarters all to herself.

Slowly and carefully he climbed the rope ladder. He felt the loris' small paws digging into his shoulder as they ascended. He had thought that Bovril would be glad to get some fresh air but the beastie seemed to prefer the company of Murdoc than to being above the deck. The parrot was with Morgan, who was probably heading belowdeck in anticipation of the noise from the fireworks; it was much too loud for his heightened sense of hearing.

Bovril jumped down onto the small deck once they reached it as Alek pulled himself up. He stood for a moment feeling slightly off-balance, adjusting to the new height. On the _Leviathan_, he had grown used to heights. But there was something different about being up so high and being able to see the ground below that was almost more disconcerting than just having clouds below you.

Deryn was sitting just on the other side at the very edge, legs dangling over the side, looking perfectly relaxed. He cleared his throat and she turned around with Bovril already in her lap. "Hi, love."

He smiled as he made his way towards her. "Good evening."

"Mm," she murmured as he bent down and, with a surreptitious glance to make sure no one was watching, kissed her. "Here," she said, scooting over and patting the spot beside her. "Sit with me."

Alek glanced down at the deck far below and concluded that he wouldn't enjoy having his feet hang in the open air above it. So he sat just behind her and wrapped his arms round her waist firmly, - sure she wouldn't - but just to be certain she didn't fall.

"What have you been up to, _mein liebe_?"

She went into a lengthy explanation of the things riggers did: knots, splicing, and something called yard running. "But it's fixing ropes and sails, mostly. How's it in the kitchens?"

If Alek wasn't mistaken, there was a hint of mockery in her voice. But he answered her nonetheless. "It's a bit fun, actually."

"Aye?" she answered, this time sounding genuinely interested. "That cake was lovely."

"I'm glad you liked it."

"You're such a brilliant cook I may let you do it all the time once we get back home."

He chuckled at her for a moment, then realized something. "You know, we still haven't decided about that."

"About what, love?"

"About home. We technically don't have one."

"Oh," she said plainly. "I suppose we could go wherever we liked."

He nodded. "Neither of us owns any sort of property. I suppose we could always stay with your mother if things-"

"We'll find something," she said quickly. She stroked Bovril thoughtfully as it settled in her lap. "What do you think beastie?"

The loris cracked one eye open and announced, "Tortuga."

She furrowed her brow. "Tortuga?"

"It's been hearing all the stories Basil tells us in the kitchens," Alek explained. "They're silly, really."

The three of them jumped as the first firecracker went off. It was bright and sprayed off gold shimmering light onto the water. It was quite loud; loud enough that Alek didn't notice another person come onto the deck right away until he cleared his throat. Alek turned to see a tall, dark-haired man with a coil of rope of his shoulder standing above them.

He smiled at Alek. "Good evening, Alek and Deryn."

Deryn waved at him and Alek nodded politely. He had met Wolfgang briefly the morning after they had arrived. He seemed like a nice enough fellow, though secretly (Deryn would no doubt give him a severe tongue-lashing if he expressed such notions) Alek envied that Wolfgang got to spend more time with his own wife than he. But that was silly: they were all on the same ship, after all. And though he might not be able to see her all the time, they had spent more time apart in the past. In comparison to that, this really wasn't so bad.

Without saying anything more, he pulled himself up into the rigging above them and crawled into the crow's nest.

Deryn pulled her knees up and onto the deck (much to Alek's relief) and leaned her back into his front. They stayed like that for quite some time, watching the sparkling fireworks spiral up and fall over the sea. He looked from the fireworks to Deryn quite a lot, mesmerized by the way her bright eyes shone in the light as she stared up into the sky.

* * *

After an especially loud and bright illumination, Deryn leaned forward. "Do you see that?" she asked.

Alek blinked and yawned; sitting in the dark with Deryn and the slight lull of the water against the ship had put him in a sleepy mood. "Hmm? See what?"

She was quiet for a moment until another went off and the light fell into the sea. "There! That!" she said, pointing off into the water.

Alek looked where she was pointing, just beyond Newkirk and Finnegan. The reflection of the moon and fireworks gave enough light that he could see some sort of shape.

"Is it a rock?" he said, squinting.

Wolfgang dropped down onto the deck and walked out onto the yard beside them. He let out a curse as what looked like a wide ripple in the water began moving steadily towards the lifeboat.

"What do you suppose that is?" Deryn asked.

A sailor from above suggested it was a wave, but Wolfgang didn't agree. "The water's been calm all night," he said, holding his hands out to feel the air. "And there isn't any wind. That can't be a wave."

Newkirk and Finnegan must have seen it as well, for the fireworks stopped and distant pleas for help were heard coming from the lifeboat.

Wolfgang swore and moved quickly down the rigging; Deryn and Alek followed closely behind. They ran to the railing where the rest of the crew was standing. Most of them were yelling about what to do or repeating that there was something in the water all the while Newkirk and Mr. Finnegan were hollering for assistance. Several of the crew members were motioning for them to row back to the ship. After several motions, Newkirk seemed to understand; he picked up an oar and Finnegan did the same. He did, and just as they began to row, the wave hit them. Newkirk lost his balance and fell directly into the water.

Wolfgang muttered something in a different language, tore off his shirt, and grabbed the knife that was tucked into the back of his trousers as he dove headfirst into the water.

Before the tumble, one of the fireworks must have been lit, for one went up spiraling into the air. The red sparks that fell from the sky illuminated the water, just enough to see a wave rolling towards them. It wasn't very high but rather long. A few of the sailors on the deck began pointing and shouting.

The wave didn't stop: it came straight at the ship. Deryn clutched the railing; Alek did the same, keeping one arm around her. The crew did the same; everyone braced themselves as they prepared for the impending wave.

They waited a moment, gripping each other and the railing, but nothing hit them. After a moment, Newkirk and Finnegan flopped onto the deck, followed by Wolfgang as he pulled himself up and jumped over the railing.

Finnegan coughed and sputtered up water as he caught his breath, completely soaked and cursing them coarsely. "You blokes almost let us drown!"

A sailor slapped him hard on the back, causing more water to be expelled from his lungs.

"Get yourself together, Mr. Finnegan," said the Captain as he marched over. "What was that out there?"

"I've no idea!" he coughed out.

"Was it a disgruntled scylla?" someone asked.

"They've never done that before," said Mr. Brandon. "Though I suppose there is a first time for everything."

"Strong little blighter whatever it was," Finnegan added.

Newkirk coughed a bit and took a deep breath. "I can tell you there's no way I'll be going into that water again!" he said, borderline hysteria. "Bad enough as it is going into the water at night with those scylla swimming about!"

"Whatever it was," Wolfgang said breathlessly while using his dry shirt as a towel, "it tore than boat to shreds. There will be no using it again."

"And it would have torn _him_ to shreds if you hadn't intervened!" a Scottish sailor exclaimed. He was pointing down at Newkirks leg. The crowd gasped and grimaced when they caught sight of it. Round burns had marked the skin all around his calf, some of which had begun to blister.

"Did something grab you?"

Newkirk winced as he lightly touched it. "Don't know! It all happened quite fast. All I know for sure is that one minute we're looking at the small little island in the distance, then the next something's flipped us over." He grimaced again as he examined his leg. "Though I did feel stinging."

"Could have been a man-o-war," suggested a sailor.

"But this far out?" countered another. They continued to argue amongst each other.

"Island?" Wolfgang repeated.

"We're in the middle of the barking ocean!"

"It was just over there!" Newkirk said, pointing in the distance.

But there was nothing to be seen except flat horizon and shimmering water.

"Oi! I think you swallowed a bit too much water," one of the sailors teased.

Newkirk sighed. "Maybe. I could have sworn I saw something, though."

"I saw it too," Alek added quietly. The crew turned and looked at him.

"There! I'm not mad," Newkirk said, quite satisfied.

"Not completely," a sailor muttered.

Mr. Brandon went about ordering several of the men to go out and collect the remains of the boat per the Captain's orders.

"Well done, Wolfgang!" he said as he clapped him on the shoulder.

Wolfgang nodded at him after he slipped his shirt back on. "Just doing my duty, sir."

Deryn stood still as Newkirk hobbled up and away to the doctor. She turned and took a step towards Alek, but staggered as the ship lurched to the side, as though something had run into it.

"Hold fast!" Mr. Brandon bellowed. "Orders, sir!"

The Captain looked out at the sea for a moment until another wave shook the ship. "Weigh anchor and send the scylla out."

Several members of the crew each grabbed onto a spoke of the huge capstan and moved in a circle, turning it up and hence pulling the anchor in. There was a part in the middle that rose as the anchor did, and once the anchor was all the way in, the apparatus in the middle dropped, giving off a dull _boom_.

In a moment, several creatures came splashing up to the ship. It was still rather dark, but once they were at the ship's sides, Alek could see them clearly. They were large; their heads probably the size of his own. They were bright green in color and had thick, snakelike bodies. Their long, pointy teeth were bared as they made the strangest hissing sound. In short, they were incredibly ugly and Alek found himself feeling incredibly grateful they were in the water and he was not.

Two men came with small, silver whistles and blew several strange notes at the creatures. In a moment, the scylla were gone. One of them nodded in the Captain's direction. "If something's out there, sir, they'll find it."

The crew was tense. Several of them were poised, holding harpoons in case whatever was in the water decided to make an appearance. But it didn't. The only sound came from the soft creaking of the ship as it wobbled in the slight waves of the ship.

"Sir," said Mr. Brandon after a long moment of bracing and listening. "It could have gone under us."

The Captain remained still but answered, "Set the sails. We'll need to move in that case; and fast."

Mr. Brandon repeated the command loudly.

"I've got to get back up there," Deryn said.

Alek nodded. "Be careful."

She grinned mischievously. "Aye, you too."


	10. Anschauung

__**Thank you Barking Lizards, Guest, Jett-Wolfe98, and mrdirtguy3 for the reviews! You all are awesome and I truly, truly appreciate and treasure the words you send! :)**

**Guest: You are wonderful! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, and I sincerely hope you continue to do both! You're awesome! :)**

**Now, I've done some reading about the sphinx, and it is so interesting! Its origins are not entirely Egyptian, contrary to popular belief, nor is it Greek, or Asian! Rumor has it it began in Ethiopia and somehow word of it sailed across the ocean to each country. But no one really knows! Regardless, each respective culture seems to have its own legend for the woman/lion/bird monster. The Greek Sphinx, as referenced below, has its own story, as do all the others I've mentioned. Check it out! :)**

**All original characters and storyline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

:)

_"Can I take this off yet?"_

_"No!" he said, a bit louder than he intended. "We're almost there."_

_She smiled bemusedly from underneath the blindfold. "Are you sure we aren't lost? You Clankers never did have the best sense of direction."_

_Ernst ignored her banter and looked down at the compass. True, Clankers weren't known for their directional gifts, but one of the best things Father ever did for his children was make sure all of them knew how to read a compass properly. "Just a few more steps this way…" he said, leading Zethos by the reins. The horse snorted in protest: the poor creature was undoubtedly tired of pulling the caravan this way and that in the woods. He couldn't blame him, for the caravan was heavy with as many supplies as Ernst had been able to acquire: it was a long way back into town from where they would be. But they had to keep going if they were going to get there by nightfall: none of them wanted to sleep in the Black Forest unsheltered. Esmé twisted her hand in the horse's mane securely and followed. He stopped again after a few paces and groaned in frustration inwardly. If only he had spent the few coins it would have cost to have an actual map, not just one he had scrawled on the back of a piece of parchment._

_"Ernst, you're holding it upside down," she said, sliding the blindfold away from her eyes. There was nothing for her to see anyway; they were standing in an unfamiliar part of the Forest._ _He flipped the practically indecipherable map over and realized that she was indeed correct._

_"Oh! Is that it?" she added, turning around._

_It was indeed. Ernst looked down at the map and back up again, not entirely sure how they had gotten there. It was a modest cabin, but Ernst was incredibly pleased with how it turned out. Small, single-story: it was the perfect size. There would only be two of them and a very small person, after all, and if they decided to expand their family they could easily expand the house as well… But that was all beside the point._

_"Yes! There it is," he said, trying his best to sound as though he knew exactly where they were going the entire time. He glanced at her, trying to read her expression. When he had finished the house, he had been quite certain that she would find it an acceptable alternative to living in a cramped caravan. But now with the unreadable expression on her face as the fact that he had really left his family in Austria began sinking in, he felt a bit nervous and wasn't so sure._

_"We can go inside," he offered. She nodded quite neutrally and followed him to the front door._

_He unhooked the cart from Zethos and wrapped the horse's reins loosely around the tether. He opened the door, holding it for her. She passed through the doorway silently and moved to the side, waiting for him._

_He led her around the house; explaining things here and there to her. She'd only nod after each of his explanations, quietly observing the structure and few adornments here and there. By the time they were back in the front door she hadn't said a single word; he was sure hated it._

_"Esmé, I'm sorry if-"_

_"It's perfect," she interrupted. "I love it."_

_Relief washed over him. Not that he could have done much if she had hated it all together, but they were going to live there and he much would rather had her like the house._

_"There's one more thing," he said, taking her hand and leading her out the door. They walked through the meadow for a good fifteen minutes before they reached it._

_"Ernst, where are we-" Her words were cut short by a large smile spreading across her face. "I'd nearly forgotten," she said as she walked amongst the rows of cherry trees._

_Uncle Max, the man from whom Ernst had inherited the land, had no idea where the trees had come from. It was odd in the first place that they were growing so well in the middle of autumn, but also that they had been planted in such a precise manner._

_"It's a bit late in the season," he said. "But if we prune them they should come back in the spring."_

_She turned, holding a handful of the fruit, and smiled at him._

Volger rubbed his forehead. How Aleksandar was sleeping so peacefully was beyond him: was it really that strenuous in the kitchens? And Bauer as well; one would think had they been performing Herculean tasks during the day by their snoring alone.

Volger himself was unable to sleep for three reasons, the first of which was the incessant _booming_ and _thumping _the waves made as the hit the sides of the ship. The crew had spent hours well after curfew combing the water for the creature that had upset Mr. Newkirk's boat, but it was nowhere to be found, so the Captain had sent everyone to bed.

And that was another factor to his sleeplessness: the burns on Newkirk's leg. Volger had unfortunately been in the same room as the doctor when Newkirk staggered in. The marks looked disturbingly similar to those Volger himself had received in Congo, when he and Deryn had gone through the lake in that underground cavern, and that _thing_ (they never did find out what it was) had pulled him under. The Count didn't remember exactly what had happened other than being above the water one moment and being pulled beneath it the next. The taste of the stagnant water was awful and unforgettable, and it had been far too dark to see anything. But he did remember a burning sensation, though there were no marks upon his leg as severe as the ones that were on Mr. Newkirk's.

He'd spent the past few days in the bridge alternatively feeling seasick and studying the map. Not physically laborious work, but it mentally so. Trying to decipher the strange symbols and runes was confusing.

That was actually the third and final reason the Count wasn't sleeping: it bothered him so.

And there was one symbol in particular that he couldn't stop thinking of. He knew that he'd seen it before, but he couldn't remember_ where_. It resembled a lion with a pair of wings and a human face. It was hideous, bizarre, and terrifying (if the map hadn't been so old, he would have accused the Darwinists of creating such a mutant), but whenever he came to it he couldn't look away. The more he tried to remember, the more distant the fragment of the memory became. And it was one of the many symbols yet to be interpreted, so none of the navigators that worked in the control room just next to where he was were any help.

Volger turned onto his side toward the wall in an attempt (entirely futile) to block out the snoring. Hours ago, he'd shoved the small bed he was sleeping in to the other side of the room, but it was to no avail, for as soon as he closed his eyes, that blasted loris (he still refused to acknowledge it by its supposed name) began grooming itself noisily.

He rolled over onto his back and thought of the picture again. It was, indeed, a riddle. Another wave slapped the side of the ship, right on the other side of the wall next to him. He sighed. He knew the idea of sleeping was far away and very likely tonight, so after a moment of debating, he decided to get up and be productive. He forced himself out of bed, not fond of the sharp feeling the chilly air brought on his skin, and dressed himself quickly. He slipped into his shoes and opened and closed the door with the softest _click!_ possible, though he doubted anything louder would have woken Alek and Bauer up.

He stepped down the hall quietly and slowly; hanging onto the wall for balance. He'd made it about halfway when he stopped at the sound of the pitter patter of feet just behind him. He turned on his heel to confront the culprit but saw nothing. After a moment, a voice that sounded too much like Deryn's said, "Bum-rag," and he looked down to see that heinous abomination staring up at him smugly.

The Count furrowed his brow at the creature. "How did you get out here?" When he'd left, it had been intently preening itself without even noticing him moving about the room.

"Sneaking," it answered.

He narrowed his eyes at it. "Go away."

After a moment, it sat defiantly, gazing up at him with its beady eyes, and repeated, "Sneaking."

Volger growled in annoyance; he might have kicked it if it were closer. But he knew it enjoyed annoying him, so he decided not to give it the satisfaction and continued walking. He turned down the hall and went up the steps to the deck. It was quiet. A handful of sailors, presumably night watchmen, nodded at him.

"Trouble sleeping, there?" asked a rather portly man, sitting just a few feet away from where he was. His feet were propped up on a barrel and there were a dozen or so empty bottles beside him.

Volger raised an eyebrow. He could only guess what he had been doing. "I'm not the only one, I see. I thought the Captain had strict policy forbidding aboard this ship?"

The man chuckled and reached for a bottle. "Only milk, your Countship. It was about to go bad; care for some?"

"Ah, I see." He cleared his throat If you will excuse me, I will be on my way."

The man nodded. "Have a good night, sir."

Volger acknowledged him and carried on his way. Every step or so, he glanced over his shoulder to see the loris still in pursuit.

When he neared the bridge, he picked up his pace, opened the door quickly, and slammed it shut. He breathed a sigh of satisfaction, feeling quite good about his success. He pressed against the door once more for good measure and then took off his coat, draping it over a chair. He looked at the map on the wall.

This was the copy, of course: the original had been deemed too valuable to keep on display throughout the day, so it had been hidden. Luckily, Volger knew just where it was.

He brought out the heavy, long scroll case, popped off the top, gently lifted the paper, and rolled it out onto the table. Its yellowed, worn edges hung over the sides of the mahogany, just grazing the chairs seated around it. Volger scanned the document, going from the large lion to the cluster of trees to the strange beast that had been on his mind all day. He leaned over it to get a closer look.

The face definitely belonged to a woman; that, he was sure of.

His thoughts were broken when he heard a small _thump!_ and turned. He felt his expression fall and temper rise as that creature trotted onto the table, seeming perfectly pleased with itself.

"Go away," Volger hissed through clenched teeth.

It made absolutely no effort to move but rather sat down right on top of the drawing Volger had been looking at.

Volger glared at it.

The loris stared back.

That irritated him. How was he supposed to get any work done with that thing in his way? He slid the map case on the table and rolled it in an attempt to force the beast off. The creature protested and complained, jumping over the case every time he'd roll it near. But eventually it gave up and bounded off the table and onto the floor.

"Thank you," he growled as he set the case into a chair and turned to look at the map again. He stared at the strange figure once more, trying to place it. But it wasn't just that that seemed familiar. The more he looked at the entire map, the more it seemed that he had looked at it before. The pictures of the sea creatures, the enormous lion, the ships that undeniably were Grecian; the way the entire thing was drawn had a sense of familiarity.

And on the bottom, the words, "ALL THAT REMAINS IS HOPE".

He read it silently to himself and jumped a bit when he heard the words echoed. He turned and looked at the creature scornfully as it seemed to smile at him from the other side of the table. It was a terribly human expression; one of the main reasons the Count didn't like fabrications at all. Animals were animals and humans were humans; the two shouldn't be combined. He thought of throwing it out again, but he didn't doubt it would simply find yet another way in. It was a sneaky beast.

The loris made a strange sound and a strange face to which the Count raised an eyebrow. The audacious beast stepped forward to the chair that held his coat, and with great effort, pushed his jacket straight onto the floor.

Volger growled as he bent down to pick it up, seriously contemplating tossing the wretched creature out of the window, when there was another sound; a _tearing_ sort of sound. Volger jumped up to see what had happened and his jaw dropped in both anger and disbelief.

He would indeed be speaking to Aleksandar about the wild behavior in this creature exhibited; it was out of control! It slithered off the table before he could grasp it, and good thing: for it had_ torn_ a section of the map off. Volger could have skinned it alive.

But he didn't, for as he looked at the now-torn piece, he noticed that it seemed odd. It was far too smooth and not the least bit jagged as it ought to have been. Volger set his fingers to the edge suspiciously and brought them up to his mouth, licking his fingertip. Glue. This map had been torn and pasted back into place!

Then he remembered.

_"Must we put it there?" he asked skeptically._

_She dropped from her tip toes back onto her heels and smiled at him. "I think it looks nice."_

_He didn't. He found the strange creatures to be quite bizarre. He walked behind Esmé, putting his arms around her and pulling her into his chest. "As long as you like it."_

_She smiled again and nodded. "My mother gave it to me. It's the only thing of hers I have left."_

_"But what exactly is it?"_

_She shrugged and turned around, observing the large picture pinned to the wall. "She used to tell me when I was younger that it was a place full of wonder and magic. This is only a piece of it, though: if we put the whole thing together it would take up the entire wall!"_

_He still wasn't convinced of its appeal as she went about pointing out and naming each of the grotesque creatures. Perhaps once the baby was born, he could use the baby's repose as an argument to remove it. But for now it didn't bother him terribly. "All right, then. We'll keep it."_

It was the sphinx; that was what the lion with wings and the woman's face was! Esmé had explained it to him years ago, though he'd only been half-listening. This was the piece that Esmé had hung in their house on the wall just above the mantel; the rest of it he had never seen before, hence why he couldn't recognize it right away.

This could be no coincidence. Granted, he hadn't exactly checked, but the day he went back to the cabin in hopes that she was still there, he didn't notice whether or not the scrap was still on the wall. But of course she would have taken it; it was the only thing she had of her mother's.

And she would have given it to their son.

* * *

Volger burst into the control room. Three bedraggled-looking men were turning knobs and taking notes while Haamid was sitting at the desk. "Who donated the map?"

Haamid looked up from what he was doing. "Pardon?"

"The map! Who gave to you?" he repeated frantically.

He looked at Volger skeptically. "I'm not allowed to divulge such information; I'm sorry."

Volger rolled his eyes in frustration. "I need to know!"

"Why is that?"

He swallowed. Until he was absolutely certain, he wouldn't divulge his scandal to anyone. "I need to know. Please."

* * *

Alek was lying on his bed quite comfortably with Bovril curled up on his lap. He'd woken up when Count Volger had slammed the door shut and couldn't get back to sleep. He had the lamp on his nightstand lit (he doubted that would wake Bauer up) and was perusing through one of the books he had taken with him to Japan, though while there he didn't accomplish any reading. The story was just getting interesting when the Count threw open the door. The man looked considerably more disheveled that Alek had ever seen him. He and Bovril sat up simultaneously.

"He's here."

"What?"

"My son."

* * *

"What do you mean?" Alek asked, fully awake now.

Volger paced the room. "The map, it belonged Esmé'."

Alek looked confused. "I thought she was a gypsy."

"A Greek gypsy," Volger corrected. "The map was her mother's; she must have taken it when she left. And she would have given it to our child-"

"How do you know?"

He looked at him. "She hung it in our house."

Bauer yawned loudly. "So we'll ask the Captain who gave him the map."

"Don't you think I already tried that?" Volger snapped. "These people and their sense of confidentiality," he scoffed. "He's here; he has to be."

"All right," Alek said, trying to restore some sense of calm into the room. Admittedly, however, he would probably be much more anxious if he were in the situation. "If he's here, Count, we'll find him."

Volger nodded at him and sat down, trying to regain his composure.

"Where should we start? Do you think the Captain would know?" Bauer yawned.

Alek shook his head. "I think I have an idea."


	11. Morgan

**Thankyouthankyou dear readers that reviewed! Bookworm250250, mrdirtguy3, MistressMine, Barking Lizards, and Jett-Wolfe98: you are all awesome and I appreciate your kindness so much. :D**

**All original characters and plotlines belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

Deryn braced the sides of the porcelain sink in front of her, letting the cool water dribble down her face. She inhaled sharply as another piercing cramp knotted her insides.

It was days like this that she realty hated being female.

Last night when she was settling into bed, the strange flutters she had been feeling had turned into a very odd sort of cramping. She thought nothing of it at first: it was perfectly annoying, but not particularly painful. This morning, however, it was beginning to actually hurt; it felt like her insides were tying themselves into knots. It had even woken her up this morning, and that when she discovered that certain other _things_ were happening to her that told her she definitely wasn't pregnant. She glanced over at the pile of discarded clothing on the floor and felt a small, anxious twinge.

She didn't mind not being pregnant; in a way, she was relieved about that. The idea of being a mother so soon was daunting. But in all of her learned and inherited Darwinist knowledge, she couldn't figure out what was going on inside of her, and that was a slightly alarming prospect.

Only slightly, though. Deryn certainly wouldn't be running to the doctor on account of an upset stomach. She had had injuries far, far worse than this. She took the small piece of anxiety and placed it to the back of her mind. She was a sailor, after all; she could handle this.

Her thoughts were broken when a loud rap came from the other side of the door.

"Deryn," a voice called from outside. "It's Wolfgang."

"Just a minute!" she called back, racing around the room looking for a shirt. She found one and buttoned it up hastily. She opened the door and winced as another ache pounded just below her stomach.

"I thought you had oversle-" Wolfgang started but stopped when he saw her, his expression falling. "You don't look well."

"Thanks," she said unappreciatively as she went back into the room to find her sash.

Wolfgang stood in the doorway at a polite distance. "Are you all right? You can stay in today, if you like. There isn't much to do."

"Are you barking mad? With all that rope that broke last night?" she said as she came back out with the sash in hand.

He shrugged. "I've been managing by myself for two years; I think I could last a day or two."

"You've only been here for two whole years?" she asked as she tied it around her waist.

He nodded. "Yes, give or take a few days."

"That's a long time."

"It feels like just yesterday. The ship was docked in Souda, and that's where I met the Captain."

"Where?" she repeated.

"Souda. It's in Crete."

At the confused expression on her face, he elaborated. "Greece."

"Ah," she said, getting it now. "You said that's where you're from?" she asked, making an effort to be polite (another of Alek's princely habits rubbing off on her, no doubt) while she stuffed the tarnished clothing into a bag to be washed later.

"Where my mother is from," he corrected, running his fingers absentmindedly along the doorframe. "I've only been there a few times; we lived all over when I was younger. Is there anything I can do to help?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine. Just.. seasickness." It bothered her to make up such an undignified, ladylike excuse but there was no way she was telling him the truth. Not like she could if she wanted to anyway: she wasn't sure herself.

Wolfgang looked down at her skeptically. "If you say so."

* * *

Alek walked to the galley with determination in his step. When Volger had told him and Bauer last night (really, it was early this morning) that he believed his son to be aboard this ship, one person immediately came to Alek's mind:

_Morgan._

It wasn't that he had come aboard expecting to find Volger's son; if anything, it was the opposite. Volger had no inklings at all where the boy's mother had gone after he had sent her away, so really, they could have been anywhere in the whole world. And the possibility of him being aboard the very same ship as them seemed completely unlikely.

The odds were stacked against him, too: aside from almost nothing that would attribute him to the Count, Morgan didn't look a thing like Volger. That didn't mean much, however; for Alek himself didn't look like either one of his parents more than the other. The way Morgan spoke was odd as well: he sounded English at first, but the way he said certain words sounded so different than anything Alek had ever heard. He didn't seem to inherit any of the Count's mannerisms either (not necessarily a bad thing), but then again, if he'd grown up away from his father he wouldn't have learned them at all.

Despite there being practically nothing to attribute him to the Count whatsoever, there were two factors about Morgan that made Alek curious: first, he almost never talked about his life ashore. Basil told them grand stories daily of his escapades inland, but Morgan never contributed to the conversation. He almost never talked about himself save for one time, which led Alek to the second reason:

Much like himself, Morgan was an orphan.

When he had said it, he stopped himself almost like it was accidental, like he'd slipped. He hadn't spoken of it since.

Of course, he really could be an orphan and perhaps it was a sensitive subject (Alek knew exactly how that could be). But he had said it like it was a bad thing, like he didn't want them to know.

Alek stopped just before entering the kitchen. A feeling of invasive wickedness crept over him. Really, it was none of his business. Maybe Morgan had his own, private preferences for choosing to not talk about himself.

But he had promised the Count, even insisted after he tried to refuse help. It wasn't like he planned to interrogate him; just get to know him a bit better. He seemed very interesting; perhaps he was just a bit shy.

Alek continued his optimistic thoughts as he passed through the door and was greeted cheerfully by the person in question. "Good morning, Alek!" he said cheerfully.

"Hello, Morgan," Alek answered as Bovril jumped to the ground and scurried over to the counter. He hadn't said anything to the loris for fear it would repeat something out of context or at a bad time (he'd learned his lesson from the Zoological Society's Christmas party, the first year he and Deryn worked there). He looked at the empty chair where Basil usually sat. "Where's Basil?"

"Oh, he had something to do above deck," Morgan answered as he gave the expectant Bovril a carrot. "Said he'll be down by lunch."

"What for?"

Morgan shrugged. "He's been acting odd since we left Japan."

"Sorry?"

He shrugged again. "Just odd. I'm sure you've noticed that he's been disappearing during the day."

Alek had noticed that. At first, Morgan had just written it off as a silly excuse to get some fresh air, so Alek had been inclined to do so as well. "I'm sure he'll be back soon."

"I'm sure. Did you sleep all right?"

Alek yawned when he opened his mouth to answer. "Fairly well," he half-truthed.

Morgan heard the falsehood. "I couldn't sleep either. It was quite exciting, wasn't it? I'm glad Mr. Newkirk and Finnegan are all right, of course. Did you see what happened?"

He had forgotten that Morgan was belowdeck when it had taken place. "Sort of. It was rather dark. I don't think Newkirk saw much; he said it happened fast."

"Wow," Morgan said to himself. "Whatever it was, it sounded big."

"Sounded?" Alek repeated. He hadn't heard anything else other than the deafening boom of fireworks and shouting of the crew.

Morgan nodded. "I could hear it down here."

"What did it sound like?" Alek asked.

"Like a sort of groan. Or perhaps a whale. I thought it was the ship creaking at first, but it didn't stop. Then we heard all the commotion upstairs."

"'We'?"

"Murdoc and I."

Alek glanced at the parrot sitting on the perch just under the window. He wondered if the creature might repeat the noise, but it Murdoc and the loris were in deep conversation about sails.

"It was very odd, whatever it was," Morgan continued. "If it's still around, I'm sure we'll find it. It can't be hard to miss, that's for sure!"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he said reaching for a measuring cup, "we heard it down here clear as day. That doesn't mean much, seeing as air carries sound faster than water. But I could feel the ship shaking, so it must have been close. And big."

A disturbing image of a kraken entered Alek's mind. "How big?"

The young man stopped what he was doing and thought for a moment. "It was at least as big as a whale if I could hear it over the fireworks. Maybe bigger," he shrugged.

Alek swallowed. "I see." He felt perfectly disconcerted about the prospect of a creature of enormous proportions swimming about in the water. "Morgan, may I ask you a question?" Alek asked after he had worked up enough nerve. It was only a question, after all; one any friend might ask.

"Of course."

"Where did you grow up?"

Morgan stopped what he was doing for a moment. "Wales. Why do you ask?"

He could have been shipped across the ocean. It would have been difficult but was certainly possible. "Your accent. I've never heard anything like it before."

Morgan laughed at the comment. "We do have a funny dialect in Fishguard, I suppose."

"Sorry?"

"I'm from Fishguard."

"I don't think I've ever heard of Fishguard."

Morgan shook his head. "You probably haven't. It's a small port town. Closer to Ireland than it is to London."

"Ah," Alek said, and left it at that.

Basil finally came down later, taking his usual post and talking on and on about Ireland and his adventures on the sea and land, occasionally being echoed by Murdoc and Bovril.

"Awfully quiet down here, lads," he said as he finished whittling an apple into a clamshell. "Morgan, why don't you take Alek trolling on the water for some of those tuna?"

Alek didn't understand what he meant at first, but before he got the chance to ask Basil for clarification, Morgan answered him. He answered him in such a way that Alek couldn't understand: after a few words back and forth, Alek suspected that their native accents were coming to surface more than usual. Or perhaps Morgan was just more used to Basil's hurried sentences. It sort of reminded him of Deryn when she was feeling nervous, or her mother whenever she got especially irritated.

After a moment, Morgan turned and looked at Alek expectantly. "Well? What do you say?"

"I'm sorry; to what?"

"Fishing, of course."

"Fishing?" Alek repeated.

Morgan nodded. "When it's quiet, like today, we fish over the side. I don't usually catch much, but it's something to do. Come on, then! We keep the poles down here."

He followed Morgan obediently out of the galley and through the hall.

"Don't come back until you catch that whale!" Basil called.

Morgan chuckled as he walked breezily through the hall. "He thinks he hooked one once. I think he's mad."

Alek found he didn't like the thought of catching a whale and having it drag the ship down. He'd read a terribly realistic book about it once and hadn't cared for the idea since.

After a few moments of walking, Morgan opened the door to a small storeroom, holding it for Alek. "This is the lazaretto," he explained as he entered. "They keep quarantines down here."

Alek looked at him in alarmed silence for a moment, at which the boy laughed. "Don't worry! We've never used it. Not yet, at least. They keep maps and tackle down here now," he said as he reached into a barrel behind him and pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper. "Sometimes when I'm going fishing, I spend a bit longer down here. I like to feel the mountains." He ran his fingers over the paper slowly, rising and falling with the slight humps on the page.

"Do you like cartography?"

Morgan broke his concentration from the map to look in his direction. "Oh, yes! Very much so."

Alek made a mental note of the recently acquired knowledge that Volger had a knack for maps as well and tucked it into the back of his mind.

As he rummaged through the small closet, Alek thought this would be a good time to gather more information. "What was it like, growing up in Fisghuard?"

"It was all right," Morgan answered, voice slightly muffled. "It's a fishing village, so there wasn't much to do unless you were an adult. Most people I knew either fished or went to the pub."

Alek stopped when he processed what he had said. "You're not an adult?"

"Well, I was only sixteen when I left-" He froze. Before Alek could blink, Morgan spun around and looked at him pleadingly.

"What's the matter?"

Morgan didn't answer.

He thought over what he had just said. _Sixteen_. "You're underage?"

"I'm supposed to be eighteen; please don't tell anyone!"

Alek stopped for a moment. _That_ was it, that he was a few years too young to be serving aboard the ship? It took him a moment to understand. "Of course not! I'm sorry about that; I didn't mean to pry. It's just that I… I thought you were someone else."

Morgan looked at him quizzically. "Who?"

Alek shook his head. "I'm looking for a friend's son, that's all. He thinks he might be on this ship. You really look older than sixteen, you know."

Morgan nodded slowly, and then shrugged. "People say that a lot. Thanks, I suppose. The Captain thinks that, too."

"You mean he doesn't know?"

He shook his head. "It was all an accident, really. Mrs. Bridgestock, the lady that ran the orphanage I lived at, said she had too many children. Since I was the oldest, I was to go out and get a job. There was a bakery just down the street that she knew needed help, so she sent me there. On my way, I heard people talking about something called _Colossus_ and let curiosity get the better of me. So I skipped the bakery and went down to the docks. I found the gangplank and walked aboard and through the first door I could find, which came down here."

Alek arched an eyebrow. "No one noticed you?"

"It seems odd, doesn't it? Really, I expected someone to find me and throw me off, but no one did. A moment after I found my way in here, Basil said to me, 'Boy, bring me those potatoes.' I tried to explain it to him; I didn't mean to stay, but he wouldn't listen. I told him I was blind but he didn't think anything of it, given that the Captain has an inclination to hiring misfits."

"Misfits?"

Morgan nodded. "Did you meet Mr. Brandon?"

Alek nodded, and then corrected himself by actually answering, "Yes."

"He used to be a slave."

"Really?"

Morgan nodded again. "He escaped from Africa in a small rowboat and the Captain found him in the Indian Ocean. Poor Mr. Brandon had no money, no name, and was half delirious. But the Captain saw something in him and hired him on the spot. He's a very nice man. A bit batty, but he has good intentions."

"How long have you been here, Morgan?"

He thought for a moment. "Eight months tomorrow."

"That's quite a long time," Alek remarked. "Does Basil know?"

He shrugged. "I don't think so; though, if he does, he doesn't let on about it. He's never said anything and I've never told him. I don't want to go back; I really do love it here. I figured after being able to just wander aboard and not get caught, maybe it was meant to happen. "

"Perhaps."

"There's nothing for me to go back to, anyway. The orphanage wouldn't take me and I've got no parents."

"If you don't mind my asking, Morgan," Alek said, "what happened to your parents?"

Morgan shrugged. "I know my father's name was Percy and my mother was Hattie, and that's about it. He was a merchant, I think. I don't know how they met, but shortly after they did, they got married and it wasn't long before I came. When I was two, there was a fire in my parents' home. My father died and my mother sacrificed herself to save me by throwing me down the stairs. I bumped my head just right and haven't been able to see since."

Alek swallowed. "I'm so sorry."

"No need to be sorry. The only reason I got out alive is because the fire brigade showed up just after I fell. One of the men took me to the orphanage, where I stayed until eight months ago."

"That's terrible."

The boy shook his head. "It's really not as bad as you think. I can do most things just the same as everyone. Slicing things is tricky, and so is money. And I can't read or write, obviously."

That was a strange thought. Never reading _anything_ ever? Alek couldn't imagine! He suddenly remembered something he had heard of years ago, a fairly new French concept that was being translated into other languages. "Have you ever tried braille?"

Morgan shook his head. "Mrs. Bridgestock tried to arrange lessons for me, but it was too expensive. I've never read anything in my life. Except for maps, that is."

"Sorry?"

He felt the map with his fingertips, just as he had before. "These are the Himalayas, right?"

Indeed they were. Alek did the same out of curiosity, and found that he could feel slight ridges and bumps over mountains and forests.

"This is my favorite part," Morgan said, small smile tugging on his lips. His hand stopped just over southern Africa. "It might sound silly, but I'd really like to be a cartographer someday."

Before Alek could comment, the boy got up and walked back to the closet, where sounds of rummaging began again. "That's all just a dream, really." He returned with two fishing rods. "So is that a 'yes' to fishing?"


	12. Catch

**Thank you bookworm250250, Barking Lizards, Jett-Butt _(lawl), _mrdirtguy3, and Guest for all being terrific and cool in general, and for reviewing as well. I love hearing from you guys. :')**

**Guest: you are awesome and thank you so much for the review! :D I will keep doing that. Thanks for the encouragement!**

**So, I was doing some research on sea monster (:D) for this chapter, and I learned that the eye of a giant squid (none have ever been found alive [I'll be honest, I'm not too sad about that]) is the size of a human head. _A human head._ It doesn't have anything to do much with this chapter, but I thought that was interesting and it's been too long since I've shared any cool facts with all of you wonderful readers. :D**

**All original characters and storyline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:D**

Alek looked skeptically at the lifeless contents bobbing around the bucket that Basil had sent up to the deck. "What exactly did you say this was?"

Morgan expertly cast his line into the water along with a handful of the mixture. "It's called chum. It's everything from a sea creature - bones, blood, insides - people don't eat. Not even Kalinda will touch it. Then again, I suppose," he muttered, "she doesn't really eat seal food at all. The tuna love it, though."

"Ah," Alek managed, turning away from the repulsive goulash of leftover fish parts. The smell and the sight of it were almost too much.

Morgan sat with his legs dangling over the side of the ship carelessly. He seemed to enjoy fishing a lot; he was very relaxed and not bothered a bit by the stink of the chum or the squawking of the seagulls above that were interested in it. And he was very good at it: he had even baited Alek's line after Alek had fumbled with it. Alek had never been fishing before. Granted, he didn't grow up near the ocean or any large bodies of water, and Father had been much more of a huntsman.

But still, he was familiar with the concept and found it to be rather peaceful. As he sat (farther back than Morgan with his legs crossed just in case), he observed their surroundings. There was a lovely breeze blowing and a satisfactory amount of sunshine. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the water below was a nice color blue. Bauer was playing some sort of game with a few other deckhands while Newkirk looked as though he were being reprimanded by Mr. Finnegan. The sun was too bright to see Deryn clearly, but he could make out her general shape up high on the maintop.

Within the hour, Morgan had caught a sizable tuna and Alek hadn't even had a bite (not counting the few false alarms).

Just as he was thinking about getting up and stretching his legs, he felt a tug on his line. "I think I've got something," he said as it began pulling.

Morgan turned his attention to Alek's direction. "You're sure it's not just the current?"

Alek waited for a moment. He felt the sharp tug again; not a dragging pull as it would be if it was caught in the current. It tugged again, hard enough to jerk him forward. It kept pulling, so he stood to get a better angle. "Yes, I'm sure!"

Morgan set his pole aside. "Reel it in, then!"

He struggled with it. "I'm trying. It's heavy."

"Here," said Morgan as he reached for the pole. "I'll reel and you pull the line. It'll be faster with two of us." Alek reached for the slippery line. What he yanked from over the side of the ship, Morgan reeled in the slack. It was an efficient method. Whatever had caught itself on the line must have been quite strong, for it was putting up a fight.

After a moment or two, Bauer and a few of the other deckhands noticed the commotion and came over to see what was happening.

The line was getting taut: almost all of the slack was reeled in. Alek tried to lift the rest of it up into the air and haul it over the side of the ship, but he couldn't. The line was too slippery and nearly cut into his fingers from the weight of the catch when he tried to lift. One of the crewmen found a net, which was greatly appreciated. He tossed it into the water and after a few tries, lifted, with the line coming up with it. It took four of them and Alek to get it over the railing and onto the deck.

When they let it go, it splashed onto the deck along with a tangle of water weeds, various flotsams, and a few fish unfortunate enough to get caught in the trap. That wasn't what Alek had hooked, however.

"Heavens above!" said one of the men, eyeing the object. "That's no fish."

The small hook at the end of his line was stuck into a large, fleshy sort of appendage. It had round suction cups and was a strange purplish color. It was large: the size of a treetrunk, and judging by the torn flesh at the top, it was only a piece. The other end looked as though it was starting to scar, like it had lost its top recently.

And it smelled. It was too much for Morgan's heightened sense and he lurched over the railing while Alek had to cover his mouth and nose from the heinous stench. The smell of the chum was like roses compared to this. Alek couldn't place if he'd ever smelled it before (though he was sure he hadn't), but it reeked of seawater and rotting flesh. Flies poured in from nowhere and buzzed around it as the gulls circled overheard squawking.

When Morgan had recovered some of his constitution, he quickly asked, "Well, what is it? Someone describe it to me, please!"

Alek looked at it. "It's purplish. It looks like some sort of…"

"Tentacle?" offered one of sailors.

Alek and the rest of the group agreed on the description.

"A tentacle?" Morgan repeated. "Like from an octopus?"

"Don't know about that. I've never seen any octopus that big," said one of the sailors who looked rather veteran. "It must have been floating in the water."

Alek nodded. Whatever it belonged to must have been enormous; there was no way he would have been able to tear its appendage clean off with a mere hook and line.

"How big is it?"

"It's not the entire thing, if it's even a tentacle," interjected Bauer, circling it. "It looks like it was in a fight already," he added, pointing to the scar.

Morgan furrowed his brow. "That doesn't make any sense." And before anyone could stop him, he was on his knees, his hands doing the work of his eyes as he ran them over the bumpy stump. The crewmen grimaced, though none of them said anything.

After a moment of feeling, Morgan sat up. "I think it's been floating in the water for a little while now."

"What makes you say that?"

"It's soft."

They all stood around it quietly, flies buzzing, birds screeching.

"What should we do with it?" someone eventually asked.

The crowd was silent for a moment. "Should we throw it back? It smells something terrible."

"And it's bringing in the gulls."

The crowd agreed unanimously, satisfied with the decision. Just as they were holding their breath to heave and toss it back, Mr. Brandon stopped them.

"Hold it! The Captain will want to see that!"

The men groaned as they brought it back, both from the stench and the weight of it.

* * *

_It was perfectly quiet outside as the snow fell in fluffy, white flakes. Outside it was blustery and bitter; inside it was warm and secure. The house smelled of smoldering pine and an especially delicious smell – that of bread and something else, something sweet – came from the kitchen. He craned his neck past the sparsely decorated fir tree to see. He could understand now that she had been right: it did make the room look even smaller than it was. She had said they didn't even need one to celebrate, but Ernst had insisted. It was their first Christmas, and they were going to have a proper _Weihnachtsbaum_._

_A bowl of the last cherries of the season (pits and stems painstakingly removed for her convenience) was sitting just beside the sink where she was filling a pan with water. Pieces of dough and small jars of spices and preserved fruits sat on the counter, their purpose still a mystery. He suspected she might be making a cherry tart (he certainly hoped, at least), but she'd forbidden him from entering the kitchen for the entire afternoon._

_Ernst watched her closely, padding about in the kitchen in her bare feet, humming gypsy song. His hands were stiff from putting the details on the cradle and he could use a break; he'd been at it all day. And there wasn't any particular rush on the cradle; there were still six-and-a-half whole months until they would need it. That had mostly been a decoy to finish up her Christmas gift as well, of course, but it was difficult with the two of them being inside together all day. It wasn't much, certainly not as much as he'd like to have given her, but he did think she'd like it._

_He tossed a log onto the fire and slowly he approached her so she wouldn't know he was there. He didn't want to interrupt her song, or her dance._

_"Said the youthful earl to the Gypsy girl,__  
__As the moon was casting its silver shine:__  
__Dark little lady, Egyptian lady,__  
__Let me kiss those sweet lips of thine."_

_"I'm not an earl, you know," he said, leaning on the doorframe and pretending to be offended._

_But she saw right through him. "And I'm not Egyptian." She snatched his hands and twirled, continuing her dance. "I am a bird."_

_He raised an eyebrow at her, amused. "Are you?"_

_"Yes, a woodpecker. And you are a wolf," she answered matter-of-factly as he waltzed with her._

_He spun her out, causing her skirt to twirl as well. "A wolf? Can't I be a bird with you?"_

_She laughed. "If you were a bird, I would be fish."_

_He looked at her quizzically, unsure of what she meant, but tried to go along with it. "If you were a fish, I would be a bear so I could catch you," he replied back decisively after a moment of thinking, pulling her in and waltzing her into the living room._

_She smiled. "No, you are my wolf."_

_He raised an eyebrow. "A wolf? May I ask why?"_

_"Your eyes."_

_Ernst had always found the amber color of his eyes to be odd. It was a trait he inherited from his mother; the only of her sons to do so. That made it special, he supposed._

_"And you're brave and handsome. And you look after those you love."_

_"All right," he conceded, chuckling at her compliments. "But only if you will be my bird."_

_She looked up at him impishly and smiled. "Agreed."_

* * *

Volger jumped; drops of his teacup spilling over the sides as two burly sailors dropped a hideous, wet _thing_ onto the table behind him that landed with an audible juggle. He spun around (losing more tea in the process) and just when he was about to demand what they were doing, held his tongue when the Captain walked in, followed by Alek and another young man (was he from the galley, too? He looked slightly familiar).

He set his teacup down, snapping his hands towards the floor to rid them of the spilled tea. "Pardon me, Sir, but what is _that_?"

And then the smell came. The Count had found the smell of the sea somewhat charming, maybe even nice, when they first came aboard. However, having the stench concentrated in the form of a coagulated, positively disgusting _thing_ made it lose all of its charm. It reeked of decay and rancid seawater.

"It's unbelievable!" the Captain exclaimed, apparently not hearing his question and not minding the scent whatsoever. The man reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a very short looking glass; it was more like a long monocle. He placed it over his eye and leaned down to it at an alarmingly close distance.

"What is it, Sir?" Alek asked.

After a look over the mysterious article, the man placed the monocle back into his pocket and smiled. "I believe, Aleksandar, that you have found the creature that attacked us a few nights ago. A piece of it, anyway."

Alek and the young man next to him looked flabbergasted. "Really? Is that possible?"

The Captain appeared quite elated at their questions. "If you care to join me in my study, I may be able to explain further. But for now, let's not bother the Count with this, yes? Take it to the containment tank!" he barked to the men. He turned and nodded politely at the Count, who returned the gesture.

The Captain exited the room with Alek and the other man, and the two brutish sailors took away the thing, leaving a slimy, gelatinous spot on the table.

"Thank you," Volger said gruffly to no one in particular. He moved the teacup again, using his handkerchief to wipe up the wet rings it had left on the desk. He downed the grainy remains in one swallow, wishing just then for a piece of cherry tart.


	13. Autograph

**A thousand thank yous to EllieStone and Jett-Wolfe98 for being awesome and reviewing. :D**

**All original characters and storyline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

The stump, as they were referring to it as for now, dropped into the containment tank with a splash. It was a glass box that went from the floor and just over Alek's head; it was quite large. Alek watched the stump sink to the bottom, and then float to the top again, bobbing in the water. It looked rather small being the only object inside of such a big container.

Beside the tank on the table was another glass box, this time much smaller; something Alek could easily pick up with both hands. In it there was a large, white, triangular stone. It was at least the size of Morgan's head. "What is that, sir?" he asked, pointing to it.

"That is a tooth," the Captain answered as he circled the containment tank, his eyes focused on the object floating within. "Whether or not it came from the same creature as this, we don't know."

Alek looked at the size of the tooth and the size of the stump. Both were quite large and though it was a disturbing thought, they looked as though they could have. Of course, he was no scientist.

"Whatever this came from," the Captain continued, once again with the monocle in his eye intently pressed up to the glass, "it's seen a battle or two."

"What makes you say that?" Morgan asked, no doubt eagerly hoping for a better description than the one that had been provided by the sailors.

"The scar on the top," Captain Dakkar answered. "It's a clean cut, perhaps torn off in one piece or even from a blade. Though I don't know who would go near this sort of creature with a mere sword, or what sort of blade could cut something so thick so cleanly for that matter."

"My one mistake, gentlemen," he said, continuing to study the stump and not look up at them.

"Sorry, sir?" Alek said.

"I didn't bring a scientist on board," he answered, putting the monocle back into his breast pocket. He held his hands behind his back and walked over to the large wooden desk in the corner of the room. "Not that one is especially needed, though. I am sure you and Mrs. Hohenberg will do a marvelous job at examining it for me!"

Alek swallowed at the original purpose of being sent on this mission in the first place. Were they supposed to analyze the appendage? He'd have to make sure Deryn got down here, because he didn't feel confident in the least.

The Captain loudly dug through a stack of papers and pulled one out. He held it in his hands, leaned against the desk, and read:

"Biological experiment escapes. Created by a student in England, a marine creature of mammoth proportion has escaped its underwater holdings. Using the life threads of the slender giant eel, the already fabricated kraken, and most controversially, humans-"

"Humans?" Morgan repeated incredulously.

The Captain read on. "- the subject is said to be dangerous and will heed none but the creator. The student, who will remain unidentified, will not say where the collection of life threads came from; only that their use was completely available and thus legal, though most Darwinists have shown their disapproval for the use of human life threads."

He turned and set the paper back onto his desk. "That is an article from a British newspaper from a decade ago."

"Did they ever find it? The fabrication?" Morgan asked.

"Not to my knowledge, I'm afraid." He clasped his hands behind his back once more and began pacing around the room. "You see, Aleksandar and – what was your name?"

"Morgan," the boy said quietly.

"Ah, yes – you see, Aleksandar and Morgan, the creator of this creature, a wicked man, is said to have lied about it escaping and hidden his creation deep underground where no one would ever find it. No one except for him, of course."

Who was the creator?" Alek asked.

The Captain shrugged. "We don't know for certain."

"And you're saying that's what was in the water?"

"I have sought this monster for years," the Captain answered, still pacing. "And yes, I do believe that's what is in the water swimming beneath us. But even if it isn't, it is a danger to all in the ocean and must be stopped."

Morgan appeared to agree with him, but Alek felt a bit skeptical. "With all due respect, Sir," he said. "You don't plan on catching it, do you?"

The Captain laughed dryly. "I certainly should prefer to! I swore to King Edward when it first was set free that I would find and seize it, and intend to uphold that promise to King George."

"But Sir," Alek said, still unconvinced. "If it's as large as that article says, where would you keep it?"

"I have been preparing for this for years now," he answered. "Please don't think me ill-equipped."

Alek nodded, sensing that the Captain didn't want to be questioned negatively any further. "But I must thank you both for doing such a fine job at retrieving this," he said, motioning to the tank. "Without it, we might be sailing in the wrong direction and that would be most disastrous. So," he said, looking at each of them, "thank you."

Alek and Morgan nodded. "Does that mean you know where it is, Captain?" Morgan asked.

"Not exactly," he answered. He looked at them with an excited gleam in his eye. "But we're getting close, and it's weakened."

The bell outside rang loudly, indicating it was close to lunchtime, followed by Mr. Brandon bellowing something. Haamid came in and asked the Captain to join them at the helm.

"I won't keep you gentleman from your duties," the Captain said. "Perhaps another day we could go into more detail. Please, see yourselves out," he said as he bowed slightly and left the room with Haamid.

"Basil's not going to be happy with us," Morgan said as they walked to the door.

As they were walking across the plush carpet to exit the study, something on the desk caught Alek's eye. "Morgan, just a moment," he said as he went over to look at it. It was peeking out from underneath an entire stack of papers and newspaper clippings at the very bottom. He caught various words from the papers covering it: _argus, sable, Knosses_. There was no way to get at it without disturbing them, so he cocked his head sideways to get a better look.

"Alek!" Morgan whispered when he realized he was the only one walking. "What are you doing?"

"Just looking at something over here at the desk," he answered back somewhat absentmindedly.

"What is it?" the boy asked, crossing the room.

"I'm here," Alek called when he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Morgan was straying off into the wrong direction.

"What are you looking at?" he asked again.

"It looks like a picture. Something someone drew."

"Oh. Would you describe it to me?"

"I can't see the whole thing, but it's got large legs."

"People legs?"

"No, more like a frog's," he answered, not really looking at it. "They're gray."

"What is it?"

"I can't tell," Alek answered, still looking at the feature that had drawn him to the desk in the first place. "It's under a stack of papers so I can't quite see the entire picture."

"Oh," Morgan remarked quietly.

The bell rang again. "Alek," he said with a hint of impatience. "We should get going."

Alek nodded. He had seen what he needed to.

Across the deck and down the stairs he thought of it, remaining as calm as possible.

After all, it was only a signature.

The way that the _D_ was far too large compared to the rest of it was what made him take a second glance the first time he saw it. It was sloppy and far too rushed; half of it wasn't even proper cursive. Alek's tutors would have had his head if they caught him signing such a mark.

_It's most likely nothing to worry about_, he thought to himself as he tied his apron around his waist.

But why was it there? Why would anything bearing the signature of Dmitri Shchavelsky be on the Captain's desk?


	14. Icarus

**Super-special thank you to the wonderful readers that reviewed: EllieStone, Jett-Wolfe98, bookworm250250, maximum scythe123, polarbear257, mrdirtguy3 (who is so kind that he sent me a message review because something was wrong with reviewing the regular way!), Barking Lizards, and Foreverblossoming! I appreciate each of your kind thoughts and encouragements, suggestions and critiques!**

**And now, per request of Jett-Wolfe98, here's something Wolfgang action. :D**

****Also, I would like to make it known that I have nothing against gypsies. My knowledge of them comes from what I've read and seen on my own. The only gypsies I've ever seen are incredibly aggressive panhandlers. But they have the coolest wagons.**

**All original characters and storyline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

Deryn raised a hand to shield her eyes as she looked up at the high noon sun. She had begun to feel a bit better. The fresh air felt lovely and so did the cool, ocean breeze.

That was until about an hour ago, however, when the wind had blown away the clouds and disappeared itself. It was hot; _barking_ hot. The sun beaming down on her made her feel like an egg in a frying pan.

"Here," said Wolfgang as his head popped up from the ropes, level with the deck. He thrust a small, wooden box of something at Deryn. "Eat this; it might help."

She looked at it skeptically but didn't take it. "What's this? Are you trying to poison me?"

"No," he said, hoisting himself up one-handedly onto the maintop. "Why would I want to poison the only sailor I know that can tie the angler's loop?"

"It really isn't that hard." Deryn reluctantly moved away the bit of rope she was fiddling with so Wolfgang had room enough to sit. She had enjoyed being up there by herself, alone with her thoughts and no conversation to make. It wasn't that she didn't like talking to Wolfgang; in fact, he was quite interesting to listen to. She just didn't feel like it today. In fact, she didn't feel like doing much of anything.

"And yet I still have no idea how it's done." He sat opposite her cross-legged and offered the box again. "It might help."

"And how do you know?" Deryn asked, putting the rope down and crossing her arms.

"My mother made it for me before I left. She used to give it to me when I was sick and it always worked. It's very good for you." He removed the stained, ornately carved cover and held it out for Deryn to see. The contents were small, brown, and square-shaped. It certainly didn't look like any sort of medicine; more like some type of sweet.

"Was she a doctor?" Deryn asked.

"No."

"A candymaker, then?"

He laughed and shook his head. "It isn't candy; it's a remedy. A gypsy remedy, actually."

Deryn paused. Hadn't Alek said something about a gypsy and Volger? She looked over Wolfgang surreptitiously. She noted for the second time rather neutrally that he was very handsome (though she found her russet-haired, green-eyed prince much handsomer, thank you very much), and if he was in fact Volger's son, he must have inherited his mother's looks. He had dark hair that fell from the string tying it back just to his shoulders and his skin was tanned, but that was likely from being out in the sun all the time. She couldn't think of what color Volger's eyes were, but Wolfgang's were an odd, golden sort of yellow; they reminded her of those of a tigeresque. "She was a gypsy?"

Wolfgang nodded. "I would appreciate it if you didn't mention it to anyone. I know how a lot of people think of gypsies, and it's not very kindly."

Deryn had crossed paths with a gypsy a grand total of once in her entire life. It was when she was with Jaspert in a particularly shady part of London, the day before she'd been carried off in the updraft on that Huxley. They were lost (Jaspert refused to admit to this day that his 'shortcut' was wrong) and had been cornered in a narrow alleyway by the woman. She was older, dirty, and had several rotted teeth; the rest of which were missing. She kept pestering to read their fortunes and got quite aggressive about it. Seeing it would make her go away, Jaspert eventually gave in (she'd told them something completely ridiculous), letting her look at his palm, and the lady demanded money for it. He refused to pay her for such rubbish and they left. She made a big ruckus about the whole thing and even followed them out of the alleyway, but they ignored her and the other people around didn't seem to care.

Thinking about it now, Deryn felt a bit bad, though the lady had been incredibly annoying and pushy. She must have been very cold and hungry and no one seemed to pay her any mind at all. It must have been a tough life.

But then again, there were other ways of making a living.

"I won't," she said.

He smiled at her and nodded. "Thanks."

"Thank _you_," she said, holding up a piece of the supposed remedy. It was slightly squishy and coated in sugar. "What is this?"

"Candied ginger. It's good for a lot of things, especially seasickness."

Deryn highly doubted her problem was seasickness, but she gave it a go anyway. "So it is a sweet," she said as she plopped the square into her mouth. And sweet is was, followed by a spicy sensation at the end. It had a gummy texture with a bit of grit from the sugar. Not bad at all.

"I hope it helps," said Wolfgang, taking a piece for himself.

"Me, too," Deryn said with a cough as more spiciness tickled her throat. "So are you a gypsy, too?"

He shrugged. "I suppose you could say that. But only because my mother was; I don't think I would have chosen it on my own. It wasn't a nice life really." He seemed like he was going to keep talking (she found that he was quite a chatterbox once he got talking) and Deryn didn't mind the distraction so she kept quiet and snatched another piece of ginger. "We had an old horse and a lyre, and that was it."

"How did you live?"

"We had a cart when I was younger, which is where we slept, but a wheel broke and we had no money fix it, so we had to leave it in the road. We slept under piles of blankets and abandoned buildings for the most part. Food was what we worried about most. Mother taught me how to play the lyre, and she sang. People would sometimes give us money for that, but most of the time they spat at and cursed us. As hungry as we were, Mother would never allow us to beg or steal. She'd always say we were better than that."

"What did you do?"

"Just when it would get to the point where we actually thought about stealing, people took pity on us and would give us scraps of food and old clothing. The rest of the time, we were very thin. I don't have many happy memories of when we were in the cities; it was much better in the country. My mother met someone that let us stay in the Alps for a few years, which is when we heard from my grandmother in Greece. She was dying and hadn't seen my mother much in her lifetime, so she asked us to stay with her in Crete. Mother didn't want to go, but I was able to convince her. We lived with her until she died two years ago, which is when I left the house."

"And that's when you met the Captain?"

He nodded. "When YaYa died, my mother wanted to settle there but I didn't. She wanted to live in one place together for the rest of her life, there, in that house, on that island. I didn't want to travel anymore either, but the one place I wanted to go to was to the sea. I'd spent my whole life travelling countries and cities and places like that, but we never went to the ocean. Mother would always avoid it."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "'Icarus!' she'd say whenever I'd ask."

"Icarus?" Deryn repeated.

"'Give him wings and he'll fly straight into the sun!'"

Deryn blinked.

"She meant it would get me into trouble," he explained. "And she was right, in a way. She would get so upset at me whenever I sneaked out of the house to swim or just sit by the water. But we lived a minute's walk from the bay; it was just too tempting." He laughed wryly. "It's like the more she forbid it..." He stopped, gesturing with his hands, searching for the proper word.

"-the more you wanted to go," Deryn finished.

"Yes! Exactly!" Wolfgang said. "Like when you had to sneak away from your family to join the Air Service."

She nodded. "And disguise myself as a boy. Course, my Da died in the air, but it didn't stop me."

"Something about the sea just... draws me. It's dangerous for certain, but it's so beautiful at the same time. And I'm sure it's the same for you with the sky." He picked up an end of a rope that needed to be spliced and played with it idly.

"Aye," Deryn said, gazing up at the great, cloudless expanse above them. "It is."

"Eventually she accepted it, though begrudgingly, so we made a deal. She said that if I didn't find what I was looking for in three years, I had to return to Crete and live with her in my grandmother's house. I did feel a bit bad, leaving her, and sometimes I do miss her, but I knew that I had to. That was two and a half years ago, and at the end of this one my time will be up."

"What are you looking for?"

He smiled. "I told Mother I was looking for myself, a typical gypsy answer that she accepted. What I really meant was my heritage."

Deryn paused. "What do you mean by that?"

"My father. Mother would always refuse to talk about him. I've no idea who he was and thought maybe the reason why she wouldn't let me near the sea was because of him. I had this completely absurd notion that perhaps I'd meet sailing one day and we'd build a ship and go on adventures."

"Your father?" she said, taking mental note of each word he said.

"Oh, it's ridiculous; I don't even know his name." Wolfgang looked out at the water. "My knowledge of him is literally none; it was all a silly thought."

Deryn swallowed. "What if you did meet your father one day? I'm not saying it will happen, but you never know."

Wolfgang chuckled wryly. "As burning as my curiosity may be to know who he was, I don't think it would go well. He left us before I was born, after all, so I must not matter to him that much. I don't have many kind words for him, whomever and wherever he is. For all I know he could be dead. It was a nice thought, but I think I'm just a natural sailor. Or perhaps I'm a fish."

She ignored his silliness. "You don't know that. Maybe he's been looking for you!"

He shook his head and quite calmly answered, "I don't think so. He's had twenty years to do so and he hasn't yet, so I'm not going to hold my breath." One of the sailors out on the yard called to him, to which Wolfgang rose and brushed off his trousers. "I'll be glad to see Mother again, though; it's been a long time. Help yourself to the ginger; I have plenty."

"Thanks," Deryn said as he scampered over the yard.

Before she had time to ponder what Wolfgang had said, she heard her name called. She turned and saw Alek down on the deck, waving at her. She waved back, and he motioned for her to come down, looking quite serious about it. Deryn debated for a moment just to make him come up to where she was, but she could use a break from being so close to the sun.

As she descended the ropes, he walked over and watched her.

"I wanted to tell you something," he said when she was within earshot.

All of the sudden, the rigging quivered violently as the ship came to an unexpected, grinding halt, thus catching Deryn off guard and knocking her off the ropes and into the cold, blue sea. She felt the sharp crack of the water hitting her dry skin as she fell.

Then everything went black.


	15. Bed Rest

**Thanks ever so much to Barking Lizards, Dontlookatme, Random, Foreverblossoming, polarbear257, and Jett! :D Each of you is wonderful and amazing and I absolutely love hearing from you. Thank you! :D**

**Don'tlookatme: Thank you so much! It is SO wonderful to hear from you now. :) I lovelovelove hearing from those that have been reading and are just reviewing (but reviewing anytime is greatly appreciate, of course :D)! SO MANY PLOTLINES. Here's the next chapter just for you, and I hope to hear from you again. :D**

**All original characters and plotline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

The next thing she knew, Deryn was lying on the deck with the bright sun blinding her, hacking up salty water. Guessing by the strong taste in her mouth and quantity she was coughing out of her lungs, she must have swallowed quite a bit. After a moment she realized she wasn't alone: there was a group of faces hovering over her, mostly crewmen. Two of them, however, were Alek and Wolfgang, both of whom were dripping wet.

As soon as Alek saw her stir, a look of relief washed over him. "Are you all right?"

"What happened?" she asked, wincing as she sat up on her elbows. Her back stung, probably from where she'd hit the water, and the hard wooden deck wasn't making it very comfortable.

"You fell," he answered.

"We didn't realize you were coming down the rigging," added one of the sailors Deryn didn't recognize. "Seems that the anchor's gotten caught in a bit of reef, hence the sudden stop. Sorry about that, miss."

She looked at Wolfgang and Alek in their soaked clothes. "Did you jump in after me?"

Alek nodded. "Right when I saw you fall. Wolfgang helped me get you up here."

Deryn laid back onto the deck, catching her breath. She didn't feel well, and not just because of slipping into the ocean. The taste of seawater lingering in her mouth made it taste dry and salty; the hot sun was practically baking her alive; and the stifling lack of breeze made her feel nauseous. But mostly she was hot; too hot. If her barking stomach didn't hurt so much, the idea of splashing about in the water might be very appealing.

"I'm so glad you're all right," Alek said, leaning over and pushing away some of the wet hair sticking to her forehead. A quizzical expression took over his face as he pressed his palm there. He gently cupped her cheek and then her forehead again. His hand was cool and it felt rather nice as drops of water rolled from the tip of his nose and onto her face as he leaned over her. "Why are you so warm? That water was frigid," he stated, shivering slightly. Wolfgang nodded and shuddered as well.

She began to answer that she had no idea what he was talking about, but was cut off by her insides knotting yet again; this time much, much worse than before. Deryn winced and did her best to stifle the small cry of pain that threatened to escape her mouth.

Alek's eyes widened. "Deryn," he said. He was speaking in _that _tone she knew all too well, the one he used whenever he was trying to sound calm but was really the complete opposite. "What's the matter?"

She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the ache to pass. "I'm fine," she gasped.

"No, you're not," he countered. "Did anyone call for the doctor?"

"I'll go make sure he knows," Wolfgang said, getting up and sauntering off.

"I'm fine," Deryn repeated, this time with more finality. She attempted to stand up but as she did, a cramp caught her off guard and she fell straight into Alek. Before she could argue, he wrapped a hand around her waist and hoisted her up to her feet.

"Can you walk?" Alek asked her.

She took a step and found that she couldn't: now her sodding knee was acting up. Probably twisted it just right when she fell. "Aye," she answered back. "Just go slow."

He frowned, seeing through her guise, and in one swift motion he scooped her up, one arm behind her knees and the other just under her neck.

"Alek," Deryn hissed, upset at the spectacle he was making. The few crew members who weren't gawking at them already stopped what they were doing to look. She hated that they were staring at her with such looks of concern and curiosity, like she was some dainty damsel that couldn't barking walk on her own. She was a sailor and wished to be treated as such.

"We're almost there," he said instead of acknowledging her complaint.

She felt him duck down as they entered her room and he set her down gently onto the bed. He took her hand and didn't voice a word of complaint as she squeezed it; even Deryn felt a bit bad about that, it must have hurt.

"Deryn," he said in a concerned tone. "What's wrong?"

She didn't answer him. Though it lasted a bit longer than the others, the ache did pass, leaving Deryn feeling especially sick. It eased up just as the doctor came in, who stood at the foot of the bed with his hands on his hips, looking her over with his brow furrowed.

"I understand that you fell from the rigging, Mrs. Hohenberg," he said flatly.

"Aye," she answered with just as much enthusiasm.

"That doesn't appear to be the problem, however."

If he thought for one barking minute that she was going to go into detail about what was happening, he could get stuffed.

"How exactly are you feeling?"

"Sick," was all she said.

"And for how long?"

"A day or two." She heard Alek exclaim, "Deryn!" under his breath in a disapproving tone but ignored him. "It's only been bad today."

Without saying another word, the doctor pulled out a thermometer from his bag and stuck it into her mouth. Deryn made to protest, but was silenced but his upheld hand.

"Please," the doctor said, "no talking. It makes reading your temperature more difficult."

Deryn sat back in the pillows and shot a glare at Alek as she saw a small, smug smile tugging at his lips. Cheeky. He could get stuffed, too.

"You have a fever; I can tell you that much," the doctor said after retrieving the thermometer. He wiped it off with a cloth and stuck it in his bag. "A high one at that."

"What can we do?" Alek asked intently.

The doctor seemed to shrug. "Keep her cool until her fever breaks." He turned to Deryn. "I'm sure you are eager to get out of those layers," he motioned to her clothes.

She nodded.

"It won't do you any good to stay in damp clothing. I'll send someone in with towels and cool water."

"What can you do about the pain?" Alek asked. "Is there anything you can give her?"

The doctor sat down and sighed. "I am a ship surgeon, Mr. Hohenberg, and I am afraid I am not well-versed in matters of female biology."

"But you're a doctor," Alek said to the man, as though he was reminding him.

"A ship surgeon. I never went to medical school."

"What?"

"I was a doctor's assistant before coming aboard this boat, Mr. Hohenberg. I know plenty about scurvy and stitches and amputations, but I am afraid that it is highly difficult keeping a medicine cabinet well-stocked in the middle of the ocean. And, being perfectly honest, I've never had a female patient before."

Deryn did actually understand that. He'd worked aboard ships full of men, not women, and it did make sense that he didn't know much about what was happening to her, as annoying as it was.

Unrelenting, Alek continued. "Is there anything you can do?"

"The best thing we can do is get her to land and to an established doctor as quickly as possible. I will speak with the captain and see if there's anything he can do. I will return when I can," he said as he picked up his bag. "It seems Mr. Newkirk's leg has taken a turn for the worst and requires my immediate attention. For now, Mrs. Hohenberg, I suggest you get out of those clothes and I suggest that you, Mr. Hohenberg, do as much as you can to keep her cool and comfortable. I'll send someone in when time permits."

Seeing there was no argument to be made that the doctor was willing to listen to, Alek simply nodded. "Thank you."

The doctor abruptly left and the door shut with a soft _click!_.

* * *

Alek looked at his wife. Now that he was _really_ looking at her, he could see the circles under her eyes. Despite having been out in the sun for the past week, she looked pale. There was either sweat or seawater on her forehead, giving her skin a clammy appearance. She looked miserable.

"Oh, Deryn," he said. "What's happened to you?"

She didn't open her eyes when she mumbled, "Just a stomachache. I'm sure I'll be better tomorrow."

"Why didn't you stay in today?" he asked in his best coaxing voice, both upset that she hadn't as well as looking for an actual answer.

"It wasn't this bad when I woke up."

He frowned at her. "You could have gone back."

She opened her eyes and gave him a displeased look. "No, I couldn't have."

"Is it because you don't want them to think less of you?" Alek blurted out. It had been at the back of his mind since they'd first come aboard and he knew how she could be about those kinds of things. "Because-"

"Don't even start with that, Alek!" she snapped, and then winced. "I thought that if I just ignored it, it would go away."

Alek sighed. Deryn was notorious for underestimating any symptoms of illness that struck her. Or perhaps she overestimated her body's ability to ward them off. Either way, she wasn't ill often and she certainly wasn't sickly, but when she was it was _bad_. The first Christmas they spent together, for example, she had a severe stomach virus she'd brushed off as a mere cold. The next morning she was so sick she couldn't get out of bed and she still refused to acknowledge it. She ended up being confined to bed until New Year's Eve, though she tried to escape a handful of times.

After that incident, he could easily see her suffering for the sake of her status as a sailor, though she probably wouldn't admit it. She was magnificent the way she was; she didn't need to prove it to anyone.

"Here," he said, reaching over her. "The doctor said you should be out of those clothes."

He braced himself for a cheeky response but got none, making him worry further about her health.

Instead, Deryn sat up and unbuttoned her shirt, letting Alek fold it and place it neatly on the dresser. She did the same with her pants and slid under the sheet, clad in naught but her skivvies. Her undershirt was still quite wet from being in the water, so he rummaged through her drawers and found a new one which he exchanged for the damp one.

Dry now and under the sheet, Deryn rolled over onto her side. Alek sat beside the bed and rested his chin on the mattress, inches from her face.

"What did you want to talk to me about, anyway?" she asked.

He debated for a moment, telling her about what he saw in the Captain's office. But she looked exhausted and miserable enough; he didn't want further upset her. Alek leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips, then reluctantly stood. "I should let you rest."

She took his hand wordlessly, looked up at him, and said, "Can't you stay with me?"

Alek knew the proper answer, according to Captain Dakkar's rules.

He glanced around the room, looking for a chair or any other sort of furniture, but there wasn't any. He kicked off his shoes and slid in under the sheet next to her, resolving that if the Captain did find out and have any complaints, he would be more than willing to sleep on the floor. But she was sick, after all, and he should stay close by in the event that something should happen; that he would stand firm on if questioned. And besides, he'd missed her.

Deryn nestled in close to him, as warm as a furnace. Alek pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his forehead to hers.

"Wake me up if you need anything. I mean it."

He felt her nod and he kissed her before closing his eyes and drifting off into quiet, warm sleep.


	16. Heroics

**Dontlookatme: It's so great to hear from you again! Thanks for reviewing! :D I am SO happy you enjoyed the previous chapter. It was high time for some fluff. :) Really, it made me smile when I read your lovely review. It's certainly not too much to ask for more, but it won't be for a few more chapters! It's coming, though. :D Thank YOU for being awesome!**

**And thank you to Jett-Wolfe98 as well, who is wonderful! She's the SO wonderful, in fact, that she went and made some FANART for this story. I. KNOW. I'm still recovering (haven't gotten there yet) from all the squeeing and feels I have for it. It's a picture of Volger and Esmé. :) If you would like to take a gander at the gloriousness, mosey on over to my profile where I've posted the link (speaking of which, for anyone that read Tikal and didn't see, there's a link to ANOTHER fanart she made of Cocijo! It's amazing!). :D Go, look! Leave her some comments and love. :D You are awesome, Jetty! THANK YOU FOREVER!**

**Polarbear257 is awesome! :D Keepin' a lookout for those typoes I always seem to miss. The Valiant Slayer of Spelling Mistakes!**

**Barking Lizards, who is enthusiastic and is the head of disease control aboard the ship! Her brother and I will have a double birthday party.**

**jibblittmuffins, who is sweet and thoughtful and awesome in general.**

**And now it's high time for no more dancing around the bush and for some serious plot advancements!**

**BUT FIRST...**

**Doldrums**** are the spots in the ocean where there really isn't much wind. Wanna know a secret? There aren't any in Japan! At least, not to my knowledge. They're more along the equator, but I relocated them for my own convenience. :D If you're a sailor, it's the worst thing to get stuck in. So, I apologize to any sticklers and wanted to make that known!**

**All original characters and plotline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

Not long after dozing off, Alek awoke to a sound. The sun was still shining through the slats of wood in the ceiling, so it must have only been an hour or so since they went to sleep. He woke up feeling rather discombobulated (naps had a tendency to do that to him) and once he gathered his wits, he recognized the sound to be knocking. Realizing that there was someone outside of the door wishing to come in, he hurried to wriggle out of Deryn's embrace as quickly as he could without disturbing her. His right arm was numb and his neck was sore from having little to no pillow, but it was nice just to sleep with his wife again, even if it was only a nap.

He nearly jumped out of bed when the door opened, the offender still knocking softly. "I've brought cold water and towels, just as the doctor asked me to."

Alek balked at the audacity of the person for a moment, and then when the door opened completely he saw that it was Morgan. He felt annoyed at the boy for a moment, and then realized that it was very clever and quite strategic of the doctor to send him of all people in: Morgan couldn't see.

"I'm over here," he called quietly, hoping not to wake Deryn.

Morgan's expression relaxed when he heard the familiar voice. "Oh, am I glad to hear you," he said, sauntering over to Alek with a tray of dinner and a dish of water and towels in his hand underneath. "That could have been terribly awkward."

Alek was just going to take the tray and towels from Morgan, thank him quietly, and lie back down with Deryn. But she must have heard them, for she stretched, yawned, and sat up. She looked at Alek, then at Morgan. Her eyes widened, brows went up, and she immediately pulled the covers higher. "Alek!" she exclaimed. "I'm half barking naked!"

Morgan's face reddened and he looked mortified. "I'm sorry, ma'am! I didn't mean to wake you! I can't see anything, though; you needn't worry!"

Deryn looked from him to Alek, eyes wide with disbelief. "What?"

"I'm blind. Can't see a thing," Morgan continued, looking in her direction.

She looked at Alek again in disbelief, as though to confirm the information with him, to which he nodded and said, "Deryn, this is my friend, Morgan. Morgan, this is my wife."

"Hullo," the boy said nervously, extending his hand.

Deryn's expression softened and she took his hand, giving it a good shake. "It's nice to meet you."

"And likewise, ma'am," Morgan replied, still shaking.

"You can call me Deryn." A small smile crept over her mouth as the handshake went on and Morgan's nervousness was made more obvious. It turned to a sharp intake of breath, however, and she pulled her hand away to grip her stomach.

"I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?"

Deryn opened her mouth to respond, but a pained expression twisted her face.

"It isn't your fault, Morgan," said Alek quickly, setting the tea tray on the nightstand so he could help Deryn. "Thank you for everything. She really should be resting."

"Of course," he said, taking the hint. He began walking away, but turned and stopped just as he got to the door. "It's just that Wolfgang asked me to fetch you while I was in here, actually."

Alek looked around. "_Me_?"

Morgan nodded. "He said he needs your help with the anchor."

Alek was perplexed. "He wants _my_ help?" he repeated.

Morgan nodded.

It was strange, but Alek didn't have time to argue. "Tell him I'll be out in a bit; I'm going to make sure she's all right first."

The boy nodded again. "Right, then. Bye now!"

Deryn gritted her teeth and lay back on the bed, writhing and gripping the sheets.

"Deryn," Alek said, reaching for her as she rolled away from him and almost over the edge, making his heart race. "Deryn!"

Her hands found his and she took it and squeezed. Alek winced, though he was sure it was nothing compared to the sort of pain she was in. After a moment, she loosed her grip and turned to him with a look of pale dread.

"Can you hand me that, please?" she said, motioning to the other side of the nightstand.

"This?" Alek said, returning with a small, tin pail.

In answer, Deryn sat up, grabbed it from his hands, and promptly emptied the contents of her stomach into it. Alek kept her hair from falling into it and his hand over her clammy back as she heaved in what he hoped was a soothing manner, though he wasn't sure how much comfort it was bringing. He had to look away and concentrate on something else - mainly keeping the contents of his own lunch from not leaving his body in the same violent manner.

"Can I have a glass of water?" she said shakily once she was through.

He handed to her the glass from the tray. She swooshed it around in her mouth, spat it into the pail, and handed both back to Alek. "You can just leave this in the washroom."

He kept his eyes up and averted from the now warm bucket; he had discovered the weakness of his stomach the hard way, the Christmas Deryn was terribly ill. He set it down just beside the sink, unsure of how to dispose of such a thing. He didn't want her to have to do it, and if she got sick again she was going to need it. Slowly and with the greatest of care to not look at it directly, Alek emptied the contents into the toilet and rinsed it down with water.

Deryn had propped herself up among the pillows, regaining herself as Alek sat down next to her. She rested her head onto his shoulder; in response he pulled her against him. "Oh, _Liebe_," he said into her hair. "What's wrong?"

"I think I'm sick," she groaned weakly in defeat.

"I'm sorry that you are," he whispered. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

She shook her head. "I think I'll just go to sleep."

"Would you like me to stay with you?" he asked.

Deryn thought for a moment. "Wolfgang asked you to see him, didn't he?"

"Yes," Alek answered, and though as curious as he was to know what Wolfgang needed him for, he was far more concerned with Deryn's welfare. "But I can wait if you'd like me to."

She shook her head again. "It's all right. I feel a wee bit better now, actually, after that... Just sleepy."

"All right," said Alek, rising and adjusting the pillows for her so she could lie back down. Once she was settled, he dipped one of the cloths Morgan brought into the dish of cold water and wrung it out. He gave her a warning, so as to not shock her, and draped the small towel across her forehead.

"That feels lovely," she muttered, pressing her hand to it.

Alek kissed her on the cheek. "Your glass of water is just on the nightstand, if you should need it."

She nodded idly, pressing down on the cloth with her hand. "Thanks, love."

"I hope you feel better," he said softly, taking her free hand and running his thumb over her knuckles.

"Me, too."

Alek waited for her to fall asleep before rising. He took the now room temperature cloth from her forehead and set it back on the nightstand.

He looked at her before opening the door, hoping with every bit of him that it was just another stomach virus.

As he turned the doorknob, however, he couldn't help but get an ominous feeling that it was something else.

* * *

Alek found Wolfgang standing on the deck talking with Mr. Brandon and the doctor.

"She needs medicine," said the doctor, rubbing his temples. "We need to get to land. I suggest we go back to Osaka-"

"We can't turn the ship around now; it would be faster if we kept moving," interrupted Mr. Brandon.

Seeing that they were discussing the welfare of his wife, Alek didn't feel presumptuous walking right up to them. The group nodded in acknowledgement but continued.

"I have a feeling it will come and go," said the doctor. "How is she now?"

"She seems all right. She's sleeping," said Alek.

"Do you think she'll get better on her own?"

The doctor didn't answer right away. "The longest I would let her be without professional medical attention is one week, but that doesn't mean it will be good for her. She needs medicine."

Alek nodded, the anxious look on the doctor's face made him feel unsettled.

"If we can ever get unstuck, that is," Wolfgang said. "And that's if we can even get out of this doldrum."

"The doldrum isn't what we need to worry about at the moment," said Mr. Brandon. "The anchor must be unhooked first, and then we'll fret over catching a wind." He turned to Alek. "Wolfgang has volunteered to lead the expedition under."

"'Under', Sir?" Alek repeated.

Wolfgang smiled. "Under the water, of course. And I was hoping you'd join me."

Mr. Brandon and the doctor walked away, still in deep conversation about Guam and winds and the like.

Alek looked at Wolfgang, realizing what he had just said. "Sorry?"

"Someone's got to go unhook the anchor, and the Captain won't let me go alone."

Alek was confused. "Why are you asking me..?"

"You swam so beautifully this afternoon!"

"But surely someone else can swim just as well as I can, if not better."

Wolfgang shook his head. "You'd be surprised. It's not required on this ship. Strange, isn't it?"

Strange indeed. In fact, it was a little ridiculous. Alek looked around. "But the sun is setting. Will it be safe?"

"It won't take _that_ long," answered Wolfgang. "We've still got a good hour or two of daylight. Besides, the sooner we get unstuck, the sooner we can get Deryn to land."

He had him there; there was no way Alek would argue with that. But still, the thought of swimming in the middle of the sea at dusk was harrowing.

"I haven't been on a night swim in years. This is exciting!" said Wolfgang.

Alek did not think so, and he did not like that he had apparently just agreed to do this without his own consent. "What about sharks? And that creature we saw the other night? How will we breathe?"

Wolfgang waved his hand. "We've got breathing apparatuses. And we'd only have to worry about sharks if we were on a reef."

"But I thought we were? Isn't that what the anchor is snagged on?"

Wolfgang shook his head. "I don't think we are; it's too deep out here." He paused. "Then again, we could be. But you needn't worry about sharks even if you do see one: if you don't bother them, they won't bother you. Trust me, I've had experiences. They're more gentle than some land animals! Except for the fabricated ones, that is."

Alek wasn't liking what he was hearing. "If it's not a reef, what are we stuck on?"

A mischievous grin spread across Wolfgang's mouth. "We're going to find out."

Alek shook his head. "Wolfgang, I don't think I can."

"Why not?"

"If something should happen..." he said quietly. "Deryn needs me."

Wolfgang placed a hand on his shoulder and looked at him with a serious expression. "She does need you, but she needs medicine also. And we've got to get this ship moving to get that."

"You're sure this is the only way?"

Wolfgang nodded.

Alek swallowed. "All right."


	17. Night Dive

**THANK YOU to Random, Jett-Wolfe98, Forever Blossoming, Cinnamon C, polarbear257, jibblitmuffins3675, Don'tlookatme, and Barking Lizards! You guys RAWK.**

**Don'tlookatme: :) :) :) I love your comments! DERYN IS OUT OF CONTROL. That's so sweet of you to wish Alek a happy swim! You can see how it goes below. :) Thank you so much for the review, and for your sweet thoughts and comments!**

**Rubber duckies were invented in the 1800s by a lady named Bryn Shaffer. :D**

**Yōkai is exactly what Wolfgang says it is; it's the Japanese catch-all term for the word.**

**I kind of winged it on the Rebreather suits; I can't remember exactly how they were described in the books, and my library's copy of _Behemoth_ was checked out (fooey!). So I took my own liberties and described them the way I would like them to work!**

**All original characters and plotline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

Alek stood at the railing, looking down into the sea. Though it was still sunny, the blue water seemed murkier and darker than usual. He still wasn't sure if he had officially consented to go diving, but Wolfgang seemed convinced that he had. Or perhaps Wolfgang had meant to trick him into it all along; he seemed to be quite persuasive.

But even if Alek had refused the offer, Wolfgang was right about one thing: they needed to do this for Deryn. She was definitely sick, though what with, no one seemed to know. And the faster that he and Wolfgang got the anchor unstuck, the faster they could find a proper doctor. It worried Alek to see her in such a miserable state, and he wanted her better as soon as possible. If he had to swim to the bottom of the ocean with someone he hardly knew and an unidentified sea creature on the loose, so be it.

But that didn't mean he was without concerns. The most experience he had with extensive diving was the expeditions he'd led with his rubber ducks in the bathtub when he was little. When he had jumped in after Deryn that afternoon, however, he had done so without even thinking. But now that he _was_ thinking about it, the idea was making him more and more nervous.

"What if we lose sight of the ship?" he asked aloud.

Wolfgang made a dismissive sound. "It's covered in shiny metal! I don't think we could miss it if we tried. Unless we have to swim down deeper, of course, but I don't think we do: only 80 feet of the anchor's chain is let down."

Alek's eyes widened. "_Eighty_ feet? How will we breathe?"

Wolfgang came up next to him, dropped a bundle at his feet, and gave him a cheerful look. "With this!"

The case sloshed as Alek picked it up, as though there was water inside. He cracked open the top and peeked in, seeing what looked like reptilian sort of skin that smelled quite fishy. "Sorry, what is it?"

"A Spottiswoode Rebreather!" bellowed Mr. Brandon. "Might not look like much, but it'll keep you insulated and you'll be able to breathe just as though you were in the open air."

"It's a wonderful invention, really," said Wolfgang as he opened the case and tossed out its contents. "A swimmer's best friend!"

With that, he slid the reptilian suit on effortlessly, the gauntlets' tendrils uncoiling themselves and wrapping up his forearms, then connecting at the shoulders and stopping just at his neck. The pieces around the legs did the same thing, coming just to his waist and leaving his middle bare.

While Alek felt incredibly uncomfortable about it, Wolfgang seemed perfectly content, as though he stepped into Spottiswoode Rebreathers every day. Within moments he was ready to go while Alek hadn't even looked at his own suit.

"Do you need any help?" he asked as he pushed a pair of goggles on over his head and let them rest in his long, dark hair, making it stick up at all sorts of odd angles.

Alek shook his head; he'd seen perfectly how it was done. It was just a matter of motivating himself to do it. He thought of Deryn, and resolved then and there that he was going to put that suit on, no matter how many kinds of wrong it was to him; naturally, morally, and biologically.

The feeling of the cold, slimy gloves made him shudder as he pulled them up his arms. He didn't have to pull far, for seemingly on their own they uncoiled and wrapped themselves past his elbows and to his shoulders. The leg parts, sort of like stockings, did the same thing. Alek felt stiff, like he was being squeezed and was having trouble breathing. Placing the mouthpiece into his mouth was the worst, however: he could feel the tendrils unfurling themselves in his throat and the taste was sickening. He fought his gag reflex with great difficulty and it was a conscious effort not to pull away.

He focused on breathing and adjusting to the feeling of the suit on his skin. He held up his hand and spread his fingers, observing the strange webbing between them with curiosity.

Alek watched the fabricated skin stretch as he stepped over the railing to where Wolfgang was waiting. He handed him a pair of goggles that Alek put on quickly.

"You two look like a pair of frogs!" one of the sailors said with a smirk. A group of them had gathered to watch and were wearing amused expressions. Wolfgang gave Alek an encouraging look, as did Bauer and Morgan.

"You'll do fine, Alek," Morgan called. Alek waved at him, for his mouth was full of Rebreather, but realized the effort was futile. He knocked on the railing instead, to which Morgan nodded.

Wolfgang whispered just before he put his mouthpiece in, "Just stay close to me and we'll be done in no time."

Alek nodded at him and he watched Wolfgang drop into the water with hardly a sound. He himself stared down at the water as it settled, every fiber in his body wishing to tear the unnatural suit off, throw it overboard, and go stay with Deryn.

He inhaled (through his nose; the taste of salt and fish in his mouth was too strong and he didn't want to unless he had to), closed his eyes, and thought of her.

_Deryn needed him to do this._

Alek jumped down into the water and closed his eyes as the cold, icy sea enveloped him. Within seconds, the stiff, suffocating feeling was gone and he hardly noticed he was wearing the suit at all.. He felt surprisingly adjusted; though he certainly couldn't wear it every day (he hoped that this would be the only occasion) and the fishy taste was just as bad as it had been at first. Swimming with the webbed toes and feet was easy and required much less work than usual.

Once he was able to glide through the water smoothly a handful of times, Wolfgang emerged from below the surface and motioned for Alek to follow. Alek looked up at the ship: Mr. Brandon and the others were standing at the railing watching them. The coxswain nodded at them; he and Wolfgang returned the gesture. And then Wolfgang sunk beneath the waves as Alek followed.

From underneath the surface, the water wasn't quite as bad as Alek had expected it to be. It was cold, but his body soon adjusted (either that or it became numb) and wearing goggles helped. The hull of the ship was visible directly behind them, which was slightly comforting. Rays of sunlight shone into the clear water, giving off beams of light that looked rather nice in the dark blue sea, reminders that the world they just came from was right above them.

Wolfgang was fast as he paddled about, looking quite blissful. He twirled while moving and swam loopty loops in the open space. He swam over the thick chain coming from the ship's aft end and motioned for Alek to do the same. The links making up the chain were enormous: some bigger than his hand. Through a series of hand gestures, he understood that Wolfgang intended for them to follow it down, which was where the anchor was. He nodded, and Wolfgang began swimming steadily just above the chain at a diagonal, downwards angle.

Silently they swam down, deeper into the ocean. The only sound was the fizz of the bubbles floating and popping upwards, and even that was muffled. There wasn't a creature in sight; just he and Wolfgang as far as could be seen, two people, miniscule in comparison to some of the other inhabitants. Alek shuddered at that thought and chose to concentrate on breathing instead. As he did so, Alek found that the Rebreather seemed to work better when was breathing naturally. Perhaps this Rebreather wasn't so bad, after all, minus the taste and the fact that a living creature was currently covering his body, of course.

As they followed the chain down, descending deeper into the sea, a large, dark shape appeared below them. Alek couldn't quite make it out from where he was, but it was imposing and he didn't like the look of it. He stopped. He couldn't see the beams of light from where they were. He began to deliberately breathe, which made it harder than it was. He was cold, wet, and began to _feel_ the suit on his skin, making his feel trapped.

Wolfgang turned and looked at him quizzically. He motioned for Alek to keep following, and Alek motioned to the large silhouette they were headed towards. Wolfgang looked, turned back at Alek, and nodded, as if to tell him it were all right. Though he wasn't convinced, Wolfgang probably knew more about what they were doing than he, so Alek followed him with skeptical caution.

The closer they got, the easier the object was to see and he realized that it wasn't a creature or even a reef, but a ship. It was a large, industrial-type ship, like one might see in battle, and it was broken in half. Its aft end was facing toward the ocean floor and its stern was facing upwards, towards the surface. The large characters painted on the side, presumably the name, looked quite Asian in nature. Granted where they were geographically, it was likely a Japanese vessel.

Splinters of wood and various debris floated past them as they made their way towards the wreck. The links in the chain grew bigger, and Alek spotted the anchor hooked into a broken window on the deck. Wolfgang swam down and hovered above it, trying to push it away. Alek joined him, and with great effort, they were able to move it just enough so that it came free. It was a small victory, but Alek felt quite glad about it. That was it! They could go back.

He turned towards the way they had come to go back to the surface, but Wolfgang didn't move. He looked at Alek, and cocked his head towards an open door.

Alek shook his head negatively. He did not like the thought of swimming inside of a precariously balanced shipwreck at all, but especially one this far down. And just _what_ had caused the wreck added to his alarm: there were no visible rocks nearby and the ship looked to be cut clean in half.

Wolfgang frowned at him and then swam inside the broken door.

Alek looked up at the surface. If he went back alone, something could happen to Wolfgang. He could get injured or become stuck underneath something and would have no help. Despite not knowing Wolfgang very well, Alek knew that he'd never be able to live with himself if something did happen to him. So begrudgingly, he swam in after him.

Inside was very dark, bits of paper and wooden debris floating about. Forks floated by suspended in the water; they must have been in the mess area. The rest of the doors and windows were locked shut. The entire ship was turned upside down; the floor was the ceiling and the ceiling the floor. Chairs, tables, and various flotsam were scattered about, gently moving in the water.

As he continued down the hall, Alek found Wolfgang stopped and struggling with something on the ceiling. It was a round, large wheel, a sort of knob to a rounded hatch. Wolfgang motioned for his help, and after a bit of effort, they were able to turn it freely. Wolfgang turned open it smoothly and poked his head up through the hatch.

Alek stayed below, glancing around and waiting. The atmosphere had such an anxious feel to it; he wondered what had happened that had brought such a powerful-looking ship to the bottom of the ocean. Wolfgang pulled himself up completely rather suddenly and Alek followed suit.

Evidently, they were in the control room. It was like a bizarre, make-believe space with everything turned upside down. Knobs and levers and switches were high above them. The room wasn't full of water; due to the angle at which the ship was resting and the fact that the door was closed, the water sloped, sort of like the tide at a beach. The door must have been shut as the vessel started to sink. Wolfgang broke the surface of the water and pulled the breathing device from his mouth, leaving Alek in the water.

"We must be in the control room," he muttered. He stepped around, gazing up at the ceiling. "They probably closed this room first in hopes of preventing the entire ship from sinking."

Alek pulled the Rebreather from his mouth; it stuck in an unpleasant way, like taffy. "Then how did this room not flood and the rest of it did?"

Wolfgang began to answer but stopped when something caught his eye. "Hera and Leto alike."

Sitting in the corner on an overturned cabinet was a body. He looked to be older than Alek but probably a bit younger than the Count and looked like he'd been lying in that spot for quite some time. A small, glass bottle lay by his open, motionless hand. Wolfgang immediately pulled himself up onto the higher ground the man was huddled in.

"Is he...?" Alek whispered from the water. He didn't know why he was whispering all of the sudden; out of fear or respect for the deceased, perhaps.

Wolfgang showed no such reserve: he knelt and put his hands round the man's neck, feeling his pulse. "He's alive," said Wolfgang. "Hello!" he said, shaking him a bit.

The fellow jerked awake without warning, causing both Alek and Wolfgang to jump. The man yelped and stared at them for a moment. His eyes were wide with shock as he glanced from Alek to Wolfgang.

After a moment, Wolfgang pressed his palms together and bowed while saying something in Japanese. It was "_Kon'nichiwa_", and from the month he and Deryn had spent honeymooning in Osaka, he knew that to mean "hello". The man looked even more surprised, but answered him in a soft voice, placing his hands together and bowing slightly from the ground. Wolfgang said another lengthy phrase, one Alek couldn't follow.

"You speak Japanese?" he asked, probably just as surprised as the sailor.

"Learned it in India," Wolfgang answered nonchalantly, continuing his conversation.

Alek was puzzled by the answer but didn't press it. "Is he all right?"

Wolfgang uttered a few long words. The man responded, and Wolfgang translated. "He says that he was the only one in here when the ship went down. He locked the door and prepared for death, but it fate was good to him."

The man added something else.

"Or terribly bad," Wolfgang said slowly.

Alek's eyes widened. "What does he mean by that?"

Wolfgang shook his head. "I'm not sure."

"Is he hurt?"

"No. He says he's just hungry. He ate pieces of driftwood and was somehow able to construct a filter for the water, but he needs fresh water that isn't from the sea."

"How long has he been down here?"

Wolfgang asked the man and shook his head. "He isn't sure. He says the last time he saw the sun it was a Wednesday, but once he was trapped in here he lost track. We need to get him to the surface as quickly as possible."

"Of course. Should one us stay here while the other swims to the surface for another Rebreather?" Alek wouldn't have wanted to do either particularly: he wasn't fond of the idea of swimming to the surface by himself, but he didn't speak Japanese at all.

Wolfgang made a dismissive scoff as he peeled the suit from his body. "Nonsense! I'll swim ahead while you two come at your own pace."

"You won't make it to the surface!" Alek said.

Wolfgang nodded. "Yes, I will. I used to do this all the time in the Mediterranean!"

"The Mediterranean?" repeated Alek.

"Crete, to be exact," he said, helping the man to his feet. He seemed to sway a bit, but looked all right. He reached down and clutched at an empty glass bottle that had been beside him. "The bay was full of sharks and was much saltier, too; I'm sure this will be easy." He handed the suit to the man, who looked down at the reptilian apparatus skeptically. Wolfgang appeared to reassure him and even pantomimed how to put it on. A look of recognition flashed across his face and the sailor pulled the rubbery suit on with ease. He must have worn one before, for he hardly seemed to blink as he inserted the mouthpiece.

He gave them a ready look. Wolfgang stepped into the water, aligning himself up with the door. "Whatever happens," he said, "don't look back."

Alek wasn't entirely sure what that meant but he would be glad to get back to the surface, as he was sure the other man would be as well. "All right."

Wolfgang looked at them both. "Ready?"

"Are you sure you can do this?" It was at least a ten minute swim down, and granted, it would faster going up, it seemed impossible for anyone to hold their breath for that long.

In answer, Wolfgang dove into the water, darting down and out of the room as fast as a fish. Alek stuffed the Rebreather back into his mouth, both grimacing at it and relishing the fact that he wouldn't have to do it again, and nodded at the man. The gesture was returned and they sank down into the water.

Out through the door they went and back down through the hall from which they had come, dodging splinters of wood and compasses floating about. Wolfgang was only a trail of bubbles, too fast and too far ahead to be seen.

With the chain no longer taut, there was no longer a direct path to the ship, and it made swimming back up a bit more difficult. But one they made it to the surface they would surely be able to spot it, so Alek swam at a sharp, upward slope towards the shiny shape above them. He felt his ears pop painfully and his nose sting as they swam higher and higher, but would gladly deal with the minor discomfort to get back to the ship.

Other than the uncomfortable pressure in his ears and nose, things were going well. Alek was feeling good and calm, and he could hear the sailor swimming up beside him. The man looked quite pleased to be going with them, and Alek couldn't help but think of what a stroke of luck it was that they had found him. If they hadn't, the poor sailor would have surely suffered.

All of the sudden, the cold water felt colder, like something was blocking the light. Alek turned just in time to see something big and dark darting behind them. He only saw a large blur and the patch of bubbles left behind as it dashed off.

He glanced over at the sailor who seemed just as mellow as before; he must not have seen it. He swam along at a steady pace, empty bottle in hand. As casually and steadily as he could (so as to not worry the man), Alek picked up his pace. Maybe he hadn't seen anything. Or, as Wolfgang might suggest, it was just a shark wishing to be left alone. Alek didn't look back again, and progressively paddled faster.

Once they were nearly at the surface, he took one last look below. It had gotten darker, so he couldn't see anything, save for the very faint outline of the wrecked _ship._

Arriving on the deck of the ship had never been so welcome. And just in time, too: the last bit of sun was slipping over the horizon. Alek yanked the Rebreather from his mouth, gagging as the slimy tendrils of it unlatched itself and slid from his throat. He was glad to be rid of it, but he had a looming feeling that the fishy taste would be there for a few days.

He looked at the sailors standing around him and the man.

"Where's Wolfgang?" he asked, looking around the deck.

"He came up and went back down a few minutes ago. Said he lost something. Who's this?"

"I don't know," Alek answered, adjusting to the air and faint light. "He only speaks Japanese. We found him down there, in the wreck."

"Wreck?"

He nodded. "A ship, Japanese by the looks of it. Wolfgang knows more about it than I do."

"We'll wait for him to come back. Did you unhook the anchor?"

Alek nodded. "Yes, you should be able to bring it in now."

Mr. Brandon thanked him and went about ordering several of the men to weigh the anchor, and then for someone to get food and water for the rescued sailor.

Despite having been told that the man didn't understand English, a handful of the crew peppered the sailor for half an hour with questions as he drank and ate. Alek scanned the water but couldn't see any sign of Wolfgang and just when he was about to go check on Deryn, a splash and loud intake of breath came from the starboard side. Momentarily, Wolfgang pulled himself onto the deck with a concentrated look on his face.

"Where were you?" questioned several of the men. "We were about to send a search party out for your body!"

"I lost my necklace. You didn't happen to notice if I was wearing it, did you?" he said to Alek, scanning the deck as he walked over it, leaving puddles of seawater.

"I didn't; I'm sorry. What does it look like?"

"It's a silver chain. With an emerald. Has anyone seen it?" he asked, raising his voice.

The crew muttered amongst themselves but the verdict came back negative.

Wolfgang cursed quietly and muttered to himself, trying to remember when he'd last seen it.

"Never mind that! Tell us about this!" asked the sailors, looking at the man.

"His name is Shō," Wolfgang replied, seemingly more preoccupied with finding his misplaced jewelry than the sailor he and Alek had just rescued from the bottom of the sea. "He's from the _Jun'yō_."

The man called Shō perked up at the mention of his name.

"The what?"

Mr. Brandon answered before Wolfgang could. "The _Jun'yō_was the ship to report the Tatsu Maru missing. The last ship to have contact with them."

The sailors whistled and muttered among themselves.

"It's just beneath us," added Wolfgang. "The anchor was stuck on it."

"Was there anyone else?"

Wolfgang turned to Shō and asked him in Japanese. The man took a moment and responded, shaking his head. "No," Wolfgang said.

The man continued in a long string of phrases, repeating one word. Wolfgang looked puzzled as the man continued, repeating it frantically.

"Well? What's he saying?"

"I don't know the word. It sounds like _yōkai_."

As he said it, the man nodded at him.

Wolfgang said it again slowly. _"Yōkai."_

The man nodded again and clapped, looking quite pleased to be understood.

"But what's that mean?" said one of the sailors.

Wolfgang asked him. "It means 'monster'. He says a monster capsized them and broke the ship in half."

"Was he drinking from that bottle when he saw it?" remarked a sailor, chuckling to the man next to him.

Wolfgang picked it up. "I think it's a milk bottle. Is it one of ours?" he asked, showing it to Alek.

Alek took the bottle and turned it in his hands. It was clear, glass, empty; there was no label, nor any distinctive markings, and the cap was screwed on tightly. To be honest, he really couldn't remember ever seeing milk in the galley at all. Morgan would be the person to ask since he was the one that did the most work there, but he wouldn't be able to recognize it. "I'm not sure," he answered, giving it back.

"He says he found it the day before his ship sank," Wolfgang further translated. "It was just floating in the water."

It was then that the man pulled from a hidden pocket somewhere in his shirt a small, brown piece of paper. He handed it to Wolfgang with an explanation, who accepted it with a confused expression.

"He says this was inside…" he said slowly as he unfolded and read it to himself. His eyes widened. "I need to see the Captain."

"What is it?" said Mr. Brandon, taking the paper.

"The coordinates from the map," answered Wolfgang. "Someone meant to send them off, someone who knows where we're going."


	18. Wolfgang

**A thousand thank yous to saxonvulture, Random, bookworm250250, Sassysplash, polarbear257, Jett-Wolfe98, EllieStone, WolfishMoon, and Barking Lizards! Each of you is frabjous, marvelous, and wonderful! I love hearing from each of you and appreciate your reviews, comments, suggestions, and thoughts entirely. :)**

**AND in case no one caught it in the last chapter, someone did a fanart for this story and it is AWESOME. The link is in my profile! Go look if you haven't! :D**

**All original characters and storyline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

"This is ridiculous!" the Captain exclaimed as he rose from his desk. "How could anyone have gotten the coordinates?"

Alek didn't answer both because the question wasn't addressed to him and he didn't know the answer. Shō, who had been herded into the Captain's study by Mr. Brandon in suspicion along with he and Wolfgang, looked blissfully ignorant of the accusations as he watched the stump float to and fro in the large containment tank.

The Captain was, as one might expect, angry. And reasonably so, for not only the coordinates to the secret location they were headed to were scrawled onto the scrap of paper so securely tucked into the bottle, but also the estimated date they were expected to arrive as well. And to add even more insult to injury, a derogatory quip describing the Captain (Alek didn't know for sure: the Captain refused to repeat it) was written on it as well. Whoever had dropped it into the water knew quite a lot about the ship and wanted someone else to as well.

After a moment, Wolfgang cleared his throat. "I don't think it's a matter of how, Sir; but of whom."

"He's right," said Mr. Brandon. "Perhaps if we wait to see if he tries it again-"

"A traitor on my ship," the Captain hissed angrily. "I want to know who it was!"

The room was silent until Mr. Brandon spoke. "And how, Sir, might we go about doing that?"

The Captain walked over to the window and peered out. "Your wife, Aleksandar, how is she doing?"

"She needs medicine, sir," Alek said quietly. "And a doctor." He hadn't been in to see her since he and Wolfgang and Shō had gotten back on deck and was quite anxious to do so.

Captain Dakkar turned around. "Mr. Brandon, get the map, please. Where is the nearest port?"

Mr. Brandon did as he was told. "Here, Sir," he said, pointing to a blot of ink. "Guam doesn't put us too far out of the direction we're headed in. Two days at the most, I would say."

The Captain sighed and rubbed his temples. "My entire career has been leading me to this place, and my plans are spoiled by an apostate." He sat for a long moment silently with his eyes closed, pensive.

It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop until he spoke again. Alek jumped at the suddenness of his voice as he said, "Very well: we will go to Guam and act like we're making port. We'll make him nervous that we've scrapped plans for the island. We'll be able to get a doctor for Mrs. Hohenberg, resupply, and carry on as we were."

Alek nodded and felt very relieved. It didn't matter to him that the mission he and Deryn were asked to go on was being canceled, and he didn't care if he and Deryn would be temporarily stranded in Guam (though the idea made him slightly nervous): he wanted Deryn safe and well.

"Inform every sailor aboard of this treachery and our plans to make port early."

"But, Sir, to what purpose? He'll only be more careful."

"'Though those that are betray'd do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor stands in worse case of woe,'" the Captain quoted. "We'll light a fire under him; let him know we're watching. Someone tell the navigational room," he continued. "And the rest of you are dismissed! Mr. Brandon, please find Mr. Shō an empty bed to sleep in. He must be exhausted."

Alek stepped out the room as soon as everyone else began moving, eager to check on Deryn. The walk across the deck from the Captain's study to Deryn's room was short, and when he got there, he found the door slightly ajar. Curiously and quietly, so as to not wake her in case she was asleep, he pushed it open to find the doctor there. He motioned for Alek to come silently as he pulled a stethoscope from his bag and pressed it to Deryn's chest. She was fast asleep with Bovril sitting on her stomach, who was observing the man with wide, watchful eyes.

Alek stood quietly as the doctor listened and scooped Bovril up when the loris crawled over to him. He petted the warm beastie while he waited, who let out a low, purr-like sound when Alek stroked its head.

"Well, at least she's asleep now," the doctor said in a quiet voice just above a whisper, putting the stethoscope away. "She was having a terrible fever dream just before you returned."

Alek felt a pang of guilt and concern. He remembered dreams he had had in the past while running a fever, and how incredibly unpleasant those were. He could only imagine what Deryn's were like with her regularity for bizarre nightmares.

"She's all right now," the doctor continued as he packed his bag and moved to the door.

Alek set Bovril back on the bed and followed the doctor. "Do you know what's wrong?"

The doctor shook his head. "No, but she has most symptoms of influenza. There is one that I've heard of called Spanish Influenza that seems to have most of the same symptoms as she does."

Alek felt his stomach dropped. He'd hear of the Spanish Influenza outbreak in America and the countless casualties. He swallowed. "Are you sure?"

The doctor shrugged. "Most of her symptoms seem to match, but she doesn't appear to have a cough, which means there must be another reason for the severe abdominal pain. I'll keep checking on her when I can, but until she gets the proper medicine and care, I don't think we'll know for sure."

"Thank you," Alek said.

"Don't be discouraged," the doctor said as he placed a hand on Alek's shoulder. "I don't know if she'll be up again, but I won't be able to check on her tonight, so you should sleep close by, if possible. But not too close as she could be contagious. In fact, until she's properly diagnosed, you really shouldn't be in the same room for over an hour."

Alek nodded. He knew she was more than capable to take care of herself, but didn't like the idea of not being with her in case something happened. Still, though, it made sense.

"I've got to go check on Mr. Newkirk now, if you don't mind," the doctor said as he opened the door.

"How is he doing?" Alek asked.

"Not well, I'm afraid. His body is having an allergic reaction to whatever stung him. It is most peculiar; I've never seen anything like it."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Alek said.

"Indeed. Sleep well," the doctor said, and then he walked away.

Alek debated waking her to say goodnight, but Deryn looked so comfortable and he didn't want to wake her, especially if she had been having trouble sleeping. He resolved to get up early in the morning and see her then; he was quite tired, after all, and the idea of sleeping seemed very much appealing. He shut the door with a soft _click!._

"Is she all right?" he heard a voice ask. He turned and saw that it was Wolfgang.

"She's sleeping right now; I didn't want to wake her."

Wolfgang's expression went serious. "How is she other than that?"

"The doctor isn't sure. He says she's been feverish, but he doesn't know anything else for certain." And now that he said it aloud, perhaps that was a good thing. It could be something incredibly simple and easily curable and the doctor, without professional training, wouldn't know it from anything else.

"Are you going to stay with her?"

Alek shook his head. "He doesn't think it's a good idea, especially since we don't know if she's contagious or not."

"Oh. Well, you could stay with me, if you like," Wolfgang offered. "My cabin's just over there. You'd be closer."

Alek looked to where he was pointing, and it was much closer than his usual quarters with the Count and Bauer. It would be much more convenient to get up in the middle of the night and see how she was doing, not to mention he'd only be waking one person up if the floor was creaky, one that would be substantially less cranky about it than Volger. "You really don't mind?"

Wolfgang waved his hand. "Of course not! Follow me."

Wolfgang's room was small and rather messy. There were two bunk beds, a small sofa, a desk in the corner, and a door that led to presumably a washroom. The only thing missing was the floor.

"Sorry about the mess," Wolfgang said, stepping around Alek and kicking items out of the way. "I'm afraid I've picked up some bad habits from my cabin mate."

Whoever this cabinmate was, he must have been a terrible influence, for no matter where Alek looked, he couldn't see any floor. It was completely covered in various and sundry clutter. "Where is he now?"

Wolfgang shoved some debris away with his foot, creating a small path as they went. "Who, Jones? He got off in Japan. Wanted to get married."

At a young age, Alek had had tidiness instilled in him by practically everyone in his life. He had always felt quite pleased with himself when everything in his room was in order, and got particularly unhappy when things weren't. Even after adjusting to Deryn's level of neatness (or lack thereof), this was stretching his limits.

There was a shiny tortoise shell directly in front of him; various articles of clothing and towels scattered unevenly throughout the room, like they had been sorted into small heaps here and there. Whoever organized them must have given up. Papers, a guitar with no strings, a comb, a dozen books, a broken compass, wooden boxes of various sizes and proportions, and mismatched shoes all covered in a thin layer of dust as far as the eye could see. This was a mess of impressive size, one that could easily make Deryn's habitual disorganization look spic and span.

"Weren't we only in Japan a week ago?" he asked, trying to sound more curious than nosy. A whole week seemed a bit generous with the amount of accumulation.

Wolfgang laughed loudly. "I'm afraid so! It's quite terrible, isn't it? Twenty years old and I still don't put my clothes away. But in my defense, if any were to be accepted, half of these are Jones' belongings. He claimed there wasn't enough room in his suitcase."

_I can see why_, Alek thought to himself, thinking better than to say it aloud. But even if the conditions weren't what he was used to or would much, much prefer, it was still kind of Wolfgang to let him stay there in order to be closer to Deryn. "I do appreciate this. Thank you again."

Wolfgang smiled as he struggled to pull open a drawer. It wasn't that the drawer was stuck, but that it was made difficult to open by the apparently unmovable easel in front of it. "I'm glad of the company," he said as he pulled. "Though, I can't help but feel a bit guilty about blaming old Jones for the mess. I've lived in this very room for the past two years and don't get the chance to clean much, as you can see." With a yank, the drawer came open and the easel fell over, making a crash that didn't bother Wolfgang in the least. "I'm really not this disorganized by nature; I promise," he continued as he rifled around in the drawer. "If my mother saw this room, she would skin me alive."

Alek gratefully took the pillow and blanket that were handed to him and shifted (there was no room to move) as Wolfgang waded through the sea of items to the bottom bunk. "Really, I assure you it's perfectly all right."

"Thanks for being so understanding," he said as he crouched down and in one movement, used his arms to shove the items resting on the bed off, adding to the pile at the end of the bunk.

Alek looked around while Wolfgang cleared the bed. Above the desk mounted on the wall was a map covered in small pins, making the lands almost undepictable. "Have you been to all of these places?" Alek asked.

Wolfgang stopped what he was doing to look. "Yes," he answered simply.

"Wow," Alek said just under his breath. The entire European Mainland was speckled in red and silver-tipped pins; India was most noticeably covered.

"If I had to pick a favorite," Wolfgang continued, "I'd probably say India. Everyone was so kind there. And the have the loveliest tea."

Alek paused when he saw Germany. Only one pin was stuck in it, in the southern part, and the rest was bare. "Have you only been to Germany once?"

Wolfgang nodded. "When I was born. Haven't been back since." He stood up and brushed the unidentifiable clutter from the bare mattress and patted it, and a small cloud of dust floated out of it. "I really ought to make time to do this more often. There you are!"

Alek set down the pillow and blanket. Upon spreading it out, he noticed on the blanket a suspiciously greasy spot at the top. He didn't say anything; he didn't want to be rude and Wolfgang probably didn't have any others. He rubbed at the spot and after deciding it wasn't fatal, laid it out on the bed.

The mattress above squeaked as Wolfgang lifted himself onto it and moments after, a shower of debris came down, adding even more to the pile at the foot of Alek's bed. Sashes, a shower of pencils, and a notebook came flying down as Wolfgang tossed them. Alek remembered the notebook Doctor Barlow had given him before he and Deryn had left, and thought perhaps it might be a good idea to make notes of everything that had happened so far. That was what it was for, after all, and he hadn't made any yet. He dug into the bag he had gotten from his shared room with Bauer and Volger. Almost completely sure Wolfgang wouldn't mind or notice, he reached over and snatched a pencil that had just come from the above bunk.

"What was it like when you two met, if you don't mind my asking?"

Alek stopped what he was writing. "Deryn and I? What exactly do you mean?"

"Well, you didn't know she was female, right? What was it like when you found out?" he elaborated, dropping items down onto the floor in a pile as he sorted through them.

"Well, confusing, I suppose. And a bit frustrating: it seemed that I was closest with her yet the last to find out. Bovril, Count Volger knew-"

Wolfgang's head peeked down over the side of the bed. "Did you say _Count_ Volger?"

Alek nodded. "He was my fencing instructor. It was he that took me out of Austria, actually. Why do you ask?"

"Oh," he said, going back over the edge. "It's a very strange name, that's all. 'Volger.' It reminds me of something my mother used to make called bulgur. Never liked the stuff. What is he count of?"

Alek had never been entirely sure; Volger rarely talked about his personal life and he never seemed interested in doing so, so he didn't push the subject. "I think he owns a bit of forest in Austria. I'm not sure where, though."

Wolfgang scoffed. "That's nobility for you. They own one measely acre and think they're better than the rest of us."

A year ago; even two months, Alek might have agreed with him but now he couldn't help but feel a bit sympathetic towards the man. "He's... complicated."

"He sounds it. Is he here?"

"Yes," Alek said, jotting down the important things he could remember from Day One. "He's in the navigational room."

"Oh," Wolfgang said from above. "I must not have met him yet. I've been looking for this!" he exclaimed.

"Hmm?" Alek said in the middle of writing about the galley.

Wolfgang poked his head down from the top bunk, looking very odd with his hair sticking down in front of his face, and brought down a small instrument in his hand for Alek to see.

Alek looked up at him. He was grinning and looking quite victorious with the small, half-circle in his hand. There were seven strings on it, pulled taught by a small pole of wood at the top. It was purple and quite ornate with scrolling at the sides.

"Have you ever heard a lyre before?" Wolfgang asked.

Alek shook his head. He had never heard a lyre in person, but had read about them plenty in the adventures of Apollo in his Greek lessons. "Is that a Greek instrument?"

"It is!" Wolfgang said as he pulled himself back up to his bed. "My mother always insisted that I learn to play. _'_Any respectable Greek should know how!' she always said_._"

"You're Greek?" Alek asked absentmindedly as he moved onto Day Two.

"Half," Wolfgang answered. "Let's see if I can prove myself worthy of my heritage."

He plucked at the strings here and there in nonsensical orders. Alek was only half-listening, however, as he wrote down Deryn's symptoms.

"Ah! I remember now," Wolfgang said as he strummed and tapped and plucked the strings in an actual rhythm. And as he did, dreamy, soft sounds quite similar to a harp began drifting down. The sounds grew in volume and speed as Wolfgang played. The music made Alek's eyes feel heavy and he realized then just how tired he was.

"Well, I'm glad I found that," Wolfgang said after he stopped. "Now if only I could find my necklace."

The lack of music stopped Alek at the very edge of sleep. He yawned. "Where did you see it last?"

Wolfgang jumped down from the bed and landed with a _thump!. _He touched the vacant spot around his neck. "That's just it: I can't remember. I wear it all the time, so I hardly notice it anymore. But I don't think I had it on when we went diving."

Alek closed his eyes, just intending to rest them. "It's silver, you said?"

"Yes, with an emerald. It's shaped like a teardrop."

"I'm sure it will turn up," Alek said, yawning.

"I do hope so. Feel free to go to sleep; I'm going to see if it's in here somewhere."

That was the last thing Alek remembered before completely falling asleep.


	19. Cabin Fever

**Thank you, SassySplash, Jett, polarbear257, EllieStone, and jibblitmuffins 3675 for reviewing the previous chapter! :) It's so great of each of you to review and let me now what you think; I appreciate it unspeakably! **

**Sassysplash: It's so great to hear from you! Thank yo for the review. :D Am I making it too dramatic She's not pregnant, though! We don't find out until the end. :) Yo are awesome and thanks again!**

******Tsampourakis sounds like this: sam-pore-ak-ees. It's not really _that_ hard to say, but it is to type. :D**

******All original characters and storyline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

Alek awoke the next morning with a chilly feeling of being uncomfortable and realized he had slept on the top of the covers. He must have been more tired than he thought. He glanced at the window and saw a small amount of light, meaning the sun wasn't entirely up just yet. It was early, but he was glad: he had wanted to get up before he had to get down to the galley and see Deryn.

He stretched and forced his feet on the floor. He landed with a soft _thud!_ (for he had slept in his shoes) and got up as quietly as possible. The first thing he noticed was that the top bunk was bare. More noticeable, the room was almost completely clean. It was by no means less cluttered than the night before, but everything seemed much more organized.

Alek glanced around the room, thoroughly impressed. Clothing was folded and placed into neat, tall piles; books and papers were placed into stacks according to size. The floor was much more visible and clean – in the corner a broom and dustpan sat. Had Wolfgang stayed up the entire night?

_Hopefully he found what he was looking for,_ Alek thought to himself as he walked to the washroom. Compared to last night, walking in such an open space felt luxurious.

* * *

Alek pushed the door to Deryn's room open slowly, half-expecting to find her up and pacing the room, cursing the doctor for making her stay in bed. But she wasn't; she was lying in more or less the same position she was when he last saw her. Bovril was there, too; Morgan must have let the loris out of the galley. The beastie was nested on the blankets over Deryn's lap, which appeared to have been tossed away in a fit of being too warm sometime in the night. Bovril looked quite contented, however, as it cracked one eye open, looked at Alek, and curled up tighter in its small, makeshift nest.

As he stepped near the bed, the floor creaked and Deryn opened her eyes. She had a similar reaction to Bovril: she blinked, looked at Alek, and settled back into the blankets. "Hi, love," she said, stretching her legs. She smiled at him weakly.

"Good morning," he answered as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. He paused halfway through the action, remembering what the doctor had said about contagions, but he had kissed her yesterday and was fine, so a quick peck on the forehead couldn't have hurt. She was still warmer than usual and the circles were still heavy under her eyes, but they seemed a bit brighter than yesterday.

Bovril made an insulted sound and stretched. "And to you, Bovril," he added. The loris slid under his hand, forcing Alek to pet it, and scampered off the bed.

"Why didn't you come visit me last night?" Deryn asked, trying to sit up. She winced once she lifted her head from the pillow.

He leaned forward and propped the pillows underneath her. "You were sleeping and I didn't want to wake you. How are you feeling?"

Deryn closed her eyes for a moment while wavering slightly; she must have been adjusting to being up instead of lying down. "My head still barking hurts, I can tell you that much. Can you get me a glass of water, please?"

Alek took the empty glass from the nightstand, filled it in the sink, and handed it to her. "Are you all right? Do you feel sick again?"

She gulped down the entire glass. "No, I feel all right. Still tired, though I don't know why. I must have slept for twelve barking hours."

"Are you hungry? I can get you something from the-"

Deryn shook her head. "It's all right."

Her tone didn't convince him. Alek frowned. "But you're always hungry."

"Aye, I am hungry, but I don't want to get sick again," she said, getting impatient.

"I'm sorry," he said, taking her hand. "Did it happen again?"

She nodded. "Aye, once while you were out and once last night."

Alek felt a guilty pang as he remembered that he had slept through his plan of getting up in the middle of the night to check on her.

"But ask me in a little while," Deryn continued. "I don't want to be sick, but I'm barking hungry."

"I could bring you some soup later," he offered.

Deryn nodded again, satisfied with his answer. "What were you up to yesterday? The whole ship was in a ruckus about you and Wolfgang."

Alek filled her in.

"_You_ went in the water?" she repeated with an eyebrow arched, small smile tugging at her lips. "_You_ who almost drowned in the creek when me and Jaspert took you salmon fishing?"

"Yes," Alek answered. "And I didn't almost drown," he said, correcting. "I fell in and had trouble getting up."

Deryn laughed. "And in a Rebreather?" She seemed less interested in their findings and too interested in the Darwinist suit Alek had worn. He nodded reluctantly.

"I'm sorry I missed that. Oh, that's brilliant!"

"It felt... odd," he said, leaning forward to adjust her pillow. "I hope I never have to do it again."

"And what about the sailor you found? Do you think he's a traitor?" she asked in a low voice, excited gleam in her eyes.

He paused. Alek wasn't entirely sure what to make of Shō. "I think he's frightened. Wolfgang's the only one that can speak Japanese, and he seems to think well of him."

"Hmmm," she said thoughtfully, leaning back. Then she looked at him. "What was it you wanted to tell me?"

"I'm sorry?"

"When I was coming down from the rigging you said you wanted to tell me something," she repeated.

Alek stopped and debated not saying anything for fear of upsetting her. They hadn't, after all, discussed the subject of Dmitri since they'd left Africa. But knowning Deryn (and he did), if she found out later that he had known and hadn't said anything, she'd probably be more upset. "Do you remember any other fabrications Dmitri had worked on in Tikal?" he asked slowly. He added, "If you'd rather not discuss it, that's perfectly all right."

Deryn was quiet for a moment. "I can't quite remember. Why do you ask?"

He cleared his throat. "I caught a glimpse of a sketch with his signature on it on the Captain's desk a few days ago."

"A sketch of what?" she asked, her expression turning grim.

"I don't know," he said quickly. "It was buried under a pile and I didn't want to snoop. Perhaps it was just a very strange coincidence. I could have been mistaken."

"Alek! You've got to go back and look!"

"Why? Do you think it could be dangerous?"

"Anything that has to do with _that_ barking lunatic is dangerous," she scoffed.

"Yes, you're probably right," Alek said. "But why would the Captain have it?"

She shrugged. "That's why you've got to go back and look!"

Alek wasn't sure if sneaking about in the Captain's private study seemed like something that would rest well on his conscience. "Couldn't I just ask him?"

Deryn frowned. "Aye, you certainly could, but he probably wouldn't be very pleased that you were staring at his desk in the first place."

He nodded. "You're right," he said for the second time.

"Just think of a reason to go in and take a peek," she added cheerfully. "And then come back and tell me about it; it gets pure dead boring around herewith just Bovril. No offense, beastie," she said as she looked around. "Wherever it is."

The bell outside rang, indicating it was close to breakfast. "I should be going," Alek said, wishing he didn't have to. "I've got to get down to the galley."

"Will you get me my sketchbook, please? It's over there, in my black bag. And more water while you're up."

Alek did as he was told, stopping when he saw multiple sketchbooks in her bag. "Which one?"

"The leather one. It's the one I used in Tikal, it might have something in it."

He handed it to her and set the glass on the nightstand. "Is there anything else?"

Deryn thought for a moment but shook her head negatively. "Will you come back and see me, aye?"

"Yes, of course I will," Alek answered. "As soon as I can."

"Good. It gets so quiet in here, and that barking doctor says I can't get up," she grumbled as she folded her arms. "And I might miss you a bit."

Alek pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. "I'll come back, I promise."

Deryn nodded. "Have a nice day in the _galley_," she said, with what was possibly a mischievous twinkle in her eye and a slight smirk. Then her expression went serious. "And don't forget my soup, please!"

Alek took that as a good sign that she was feeling better. He chuckled at her. "I won't."

* * *

Volger hadn't slept (Bauer made up for the lack of Alek in their cabin noise-wise) and wasn't quite ready to begin the day of calculations and maps. His eyes were tired and he needed fresh air, hence why he was out for an early morning stroll. Of course, it wasn't much of a stroll once you've walked across the deck once, but he wanted to be alone.

And, of course, he couldn't be. For at that very moment, none other than that wretched creature named in the most ridiculous manner after beef extract decided to invite itself to join him. It hopped onto the railing and strode beside the Count casually, but he chose to ignore it.

The Count continued walking as though the creature weren't there, and the beast continued to follow him, padding along on the railing next to him. Volger eyed it questionably, wondering it if realized that one false move (or even one misplaced elbow from the Count himself) could knock it into the water. If the creature wished to go for a swim, that was its own business. Still, though: how could Aleksandar fawn over something so unintelligent? He sighed to himself, concluding that he would probably never understand.

Volger stopped at the railing and leaned on it, preventing the beast from following him. It merely sat beside his elbow, waiting for the obstruction to move. He looked at it with distaste and then back out at the sea. The green water was still; almost perfectly so, and there was no breeze. The horizon was flat, nothing in sight for miles.

Though the Count had, in the past, entertained the idea of becoming a navigator (he did enjoy a good equation of coordinates every once in a while), he had always known that this was the reason he couldn't do it: cabin fever. He had heard of sailors that had gone mad from the heat; some who had jumped overboard in an attempt to escape it. Cabin fever was inescapable, but a wind always came one day or another. At least, that was what he had heard.

A glinting from the side of the hull interrupted his thoughts and caught his eye. He glanced down at the water where at the side of a ship, something was caught. Something was wrapped a small notch in the wood just above the water; something shiny. He couldn't see clearly what it was due to the dim lighting and because the water kept submerging it, but there was definite silver glinting in the light. Someone's lost chain, perhaps? Volger paused for a moment, thinking better of himself. He glanced over at the loris, who was sitting there staring blankly at him. Volger glanced around, making sure no one was watching.

Curiosity had killed a cat, after all, but at least he wouldn't die of monotony.

As he stepped back, the Count nearly tripped over the loris, who was already down and somehow knew what he was going to do. He glared at it and, fighting the urge to kick it into the water, politely stepped around it. With one more glance over his shoulder to make sure none of the handful of sailors were looking, he got down on his knees and reached over the edge. He strained and stretched as far as he could, but his hand wasn't even remotely close to it. Thinking quickly, he took out his sword from its sheath that he wore daily out of habit and grasped the bladed end, using the handle to hook onto the object. He had to do it twice, but was surprisingly successful the second time.

Volger brought his sword back to him slowly, careful not to move suddenly and lose the object forever in the water. The loris came up beside him but the Count refused to allow the beast to ruin his concentration.

He pulled it in and grabbed on to the silver chain just as it began to slip from the handle. He clasped the cold, wet metal tightly and opened his hand.

A feeling, a bit of nausea and a sharp dose of remorse, came over him.

The map incident had caused him to believe it; but this made it real, frighteningly real.

There, in his hand, was the very necklace he had given to Esmé_._

The Black Forest wasn't especially known for emeralds, but finding one there wasn't unheard of. He had found it during a rainstorm while he was finishing the roof on the house. It was just there, a green stone among gray, revealed by the ruthless downpour.

Scrubbing away the mud, putting it together, and getting the prongs just right had been absolutely painstaking and Ernst was only able to work on it in small increments. He had finished it just in time to be a Christmas gift as he had intended. And it was worth every bit of the work if only to see the smile on her face when he gave it to her. She wore it on walks, to bed, while baking, while they picked cherries in the grove. And as far as he could remember, she liked it so much she had never taken it off.

Save for one time, at least.

_"Darling, please!" Ernst pleaded. "Be reasonable!"_

_Esmé turned her back and slammed the door to their bedroom shut._

_Ernst tried the doorknob but she'd locked it. He wondered why he ever even bother putting a lock on it in the first place. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Ernst knocked softly. "Esmé, please open the door."_

_"Why?" she shouted back._

_He inhaled deeply once more, determined not to let his temper get the better of him and further upset her. "I want to talk to you."_

_The door opened suddenly and a blur of silver came flying out. He chased after it as Esmé slammed the door shut again; harder and louder this time. "If you don't like my ideas, you can have_ that _back!"_

_Ernst snatched it up from the floor just in time before it slid into the roaring fireplace. Perhaps being snowed in and cabin fever had gotten the better of them. The bitter cold of late February was too much to go outside. Whatever it was, Esmé and Ernst had both been feeling a bit... tired of each other's company. During dinner, she and Ernst had been tossing potential names back and forth at each other. They found one they both liked, but when she said it aloud to test the flow, she'd said it along with _her_ last name instead of his. Thinking that they would be married immediately after the baby was born, Ernst thought it made sense that the baby should have_ his _last name. Esmé didn't like the sound of that at all and had become even more insulted when he pointed out that Tsampourakis was a difficult name for adults to pronounce properly (he still couldn't), let alone a child. Looking back on it, he could have been more tactful but just wasn't thinking._

_He brushed the dust off of the shiny green stone, straightened out the chain so it wouldn't become tangled, and returned to the door. "Please, Esmeralda; I'm sorry!"_

_A very displeased_ hmmph! _came from inside._

_Ever intrepid, he continued. "But if the baby takes your last name, we won't match. If you and he take mine, we'll all share one."_

_"_My _parents weren't married when I was born and I took my mother's last name," she said defensively._

_"Darling, your father wasn't even there when you were born. I will be."_

_No reply came from inside. After a moment, he heard the lock_ click!_ and the door__ creaked open slowly, making Ernst feel slightly relieved. "When you put it like that," she said. "I suppose that makes sense." She crossed her arms. "But we aren't married."_

_He smiled, trying to pacify her mood. "Didn't I ask you?"_

_She smiled at him mischievously as he leaned down to kiss her. "Of course you did, silly. Ages ago. But you haven't said anything about_ when_."_

_Ernst pressed his forehead to hers, staring into her deep, dark eyes. "When would you like to?"_

_The moment they had found out about the baby, they had tried to find someone to marry them, but every single of the ministers had refused. Perhaps their behavior had made their situation obvious, or maybe it was the unusual joining of a gypsy and a nobleman. Either way, it proved to be extremely frustrating and they'd decided just to wait, though they hadn't discussed an exact date just yet._

_Esmé thought for a moment. "After the baby is here. Within the week."_

_Ernst nodded. "Absolutely."_

_"You have to promise me!" she said, pulling away to look at him more directly._

_He took her hand. "I promise."_

_Esmeralda smiled and snatched the necklace from his hand. "I'll just be taking this back then."_


	20. Tempest

**Super-special thanks to Jett-Wolfe98, polarbear257, EllieStone, and Don'tlookatme! Your reviews made my day. Seriously! :D**

**Don'ttlookatme: Your mile-long review made me so happy! It's great to hear from you! :D THANK YOU for the kind compliment about chapter 17! (Yes, you spelled Spottiswoode Rebreather right! I had to look it up a million times. :D) Poor Alek! I won't say what's wrong with Deryn, but she doesn't die! Hehe, in my headcanon, she's not concerned with the neatness of her room. ;) Poor Volger. :/ That part is going to be resolved soon! :D I KNOW I'M GOING AS FAST AS I CAN. I *salute* you! Thank you SO much for your sweetness! You are so kind! :') *Whispers* This chapter is just for you. :)**

**And everyone else that reviewed! :D You rock!**

******Goody is an Irish dessert quite similar to bread pudding, and _sachertorte_ is the most delicious Austrian chocolate cake. :D**

**All original characters and plotline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

"You lads haven't lived until you've had yourself a good bowl of Irish goody," Basil declared while chiseling a pear. "There's nothing better. Whaddya say, Alek?"

"Hmm?" Alek asked as he entered the galley, his mind preoccupied with other thoughts.

Basil was sitting in his usual chair facing Bovril. "Your loris and I were just discussing our favorite sweets, seeing as Morgan's too busy for such nonsense," he answered, looking back at the pear. The gears in his arm whirred as he moved his hand.

Alek looked at Morgan who smirked and rolled his eyes while kneading some dough. "Not busy, just preoccupied," he corrected.

"Preoccupied!" squawked Murdoc, which was echoed by Bovril immediately.

"What 'bout you, then? If you could have any delight right now, what would it be?"

Alek thought as he tied his apron. It seemed a silly discussion and even trivial in the light of recent events, but in a way it was almost... fun. He didn't have to think long. "S_achertorte. _It's an Austrian cake. I've never had anything like it anywhere else. It's wonderful."

"Sacker-what? Basil repeated. "Sounds too fancy for my tastes."

Alek chuckled softly and went about his morning chores.

And morning turned into afternoon. It had been a slow day: since they were stuck in the sun without wind, the majority of the crew had less to do and in turn, needed less to what they did eat was mostly what they had left for raw vegetables and fruit, though their supply was beginning to dwindle. No one wanted hot food on such a hot day, so there wasn't much to do in the galley. It was good for Alek, however: it kept him busy and passed the time.

Just when he was thinking about bringing something to Deryn, a very strange thing happened.

Basil had long since drifted off into sleep; Murdoc and Bovril had quieted down. Morgan was still making bread while Alek was straightening things up.

"Morgan," he said. "I'm going to run upstairs and see Deryn, if you don't mind."

After a moment of receiving no answer, he looked at Morgan, who was poised frozen mid-knead. "Morgan?"

"What was that?" the boy said, sounding slightly alarmed.

"What was what?" asked Alek.

Morgan craned his ear towards the open window where Bovril and Murdoc were chattering. He was silent as he listened, and then said, "That!"

Alek paused. "I didn't hear any-" A dull _boom!_ sounded in the distance. "Did they send the scylla out?"

Morgan listened and shook his head negatively. His expression dropped as the floor beneath them began rumbling softly. "That can't be the scylla; they're never this loud. "

The floor stopped. "What is it, then?"

Morgan didn't answer, but looked up from the floor in Alek's general direction with a fearful look.

"I'll go up onto the deck and see," he offered.

Morgan nodded in agreement. "It might be nothing," he called to Alek as he walked out the door.

Above deck, Alek found the Captain, Wolfgang, and Shō all caught up in some sort of translational confusion. The Captain was looking at Shō and speaking to him while Wolfgang hurried to translate. Shō must not have understood, for he was giving both the Captain and Wolfgang very quizzical looks as they spoke to him.

Alek didn't want to interrupt them; they probably hadn't, after all, heard or felt the rumble. It could have been the sunken ship below them moving or even sinking further. All seemed in order above deck; the majority of the crew was looking quite relaxed as they waited for a wind. He waved at Bauer as he walked towards where the Captain was.

"And as for you, my friend," Captain Dakkar continued as he turned to Shō. "We're going to-"

The Captain didn't finish his sentence: he was caught off guard and nearly stumbled as the floor beneath his feet rumbled and tremored, much rougher than it had moments ago.

"Did we hit something?" Wolfgang said aloud.

"_Yōkai_," Shō whispered frantically, as though he were afraid that whatever it was was going to hear. "_Yōkai!"_

Wolfgang tried to calm the man, but he wasn't listening. Shō backed away from him frantically while repeating the word and pointing at the sea.

"Calm yourself, man!" he heard the Captain say impatiently.

Alek turned to the port side of the deck were Shō had been pointing and went to look. Wolfgang came up next to him. The sea was perfectly still as it had been for the last day. They scanned the horizon and saw nothing.

"Wait," Alek said as Wolfgang turned to go back to the deck. "What's that?"

Directly below the ship, there was a very, very faint trail of bubbles on the surface of the water, as though something had just been there. The trail led away and off into the still horizon. The further they were, the more prominent the bubbles were, as though whatever it was was moving away from them.

"Captain!" said Wolfgang. "You may want to see this."

Captain Dakkar came up next to them with Mr. Brandon, who was holding a small spyglass. The Captain took the spyglass, looked into it, promptly gave it back to Mr. Brandon, and cursed. "Send out the scylla, Mr. Brandon!"

"What is it?" Wolfgang asked.

"I've no idea," said the Captain as he moved to the helm. "But it's worth taking a look."

The order was repeated by Mr. Brandon and a dull boom came from the apparatus.

Wolfgang grabbed the spyglass from Mr. Brandon, but he didn't seem to mind. He moved the spyglass around in the direction of the bubbles.

"Can you see anything?" Alek asked.

"I can't quite-" Wolfgang started, but didn't finish. He slowly brought the spyglass down, his mouth slightly open in either disbelief or horror.

Alek snatched the spyglass from him and followed the trail of bubbles that went off into the horizon. He couldn't see much at first, but after a moment a strange object came into focus. Just breaking the surface was a sort of fin, like that of a shark, only this fin was made of thin, tall spikes and connected by a membrane. It hardly disturbed the water as it glided through it smoothly. And if it was visible from where they were, it must have been large. After a moment, Alek felt a familiar feeling of dread. It was something he saw only once and wished to never see again: Mokele-Mbembe, the monster from the Congo River. And it was making its way back towards the ship.

He brought down the spyglass and squinted at the creature. It was still a good distance away, but even without the spyglass he could see it coming towards them. The scylla swam through the water smoothly like snakes, creating small ripples. They splashed about, but it did nothing to slow it down.

"Sir!" Wolfgang cried. "We need to move!"

"Of course we do," the Captain said calmly as he held his hands behind his back and stood up straight at the helm "We're going to move, wind or not. To oars!"

Mr. Brandon repeated the order again, and several crew members pounded down the stairs. Alek leaned over the edge of the ship as far as he dared and saw small windows opening up, and then long planks of wood were pushed from them. They were enormous.

"Wolfgang, since you're down a rigger, perhaps Aleksandar would be able to assist you with the sails."

"But there's no wind," said Alek, baffled.

The Captain smiled. "Not yet. Look to starboard."

Alek followed his gaze and saw what he meant: about half a mile or so to the side of them were large stormclouds looming on the horizon. A small bolt of lightning flashed in them; stark white electricity in the almost black cloud. He heard the low rumble of thunder as the storm roiled angrily.

"We'll be torn to shreds," Wolfgang said. "There's no way the sails can handle that."

The man shook his head firmly. "Not _Colossus; _not my ship. Besides, would you rather stay in one place with a creature meaning to ram us to death? If there's a storm, there's wind."

"This is madness," said Wolfgang grimly to Alek. "But he's right. Come on."

"Are we going to row all the way there?" Alek asked as he followed him to the rigging.

"No, actually. We'll only have to row for a little while, until there's enough wind created from the momentum to fill the sails. Once it does, that will hopefully be enough to push us into the storm. We've done it a few times and it's always worked, but we've never exactly been in a hurry."

Alek followed him up the rigging and to the foredeck. Feeling a bit dizzy at the height of it, he held on to the mast for balance. Wolfgang ambled unbothered, kicked off his shoes, and nimbly stepped out onto the yard. Alek looked at the plank of wood holding up the sail feeling terribly nervous about the idea of stepping onto with literally nothing to hold onto for balance but a few ropes.

"Stay right there!" Wolfgang called when he took an anxious step towards it, much to Alek's relief. He tossed him a thick rope. "When I tell you to, I'll need you to hoist the sail."

Alek felt a bit confused: shouldn't they have the sails up and ready to catch the wind?

Wolfgang must have noticed, for he added, "'Hoist your sail when the wind is fair.' I don't know why, but it works better that way."

Alek nodded and held tightly onto the rope.

Wolfgang turned his head and looked around, stopping when he looked port side. Alek followed his gaze to the water below. From where he was, he could see a large, dark shape was swimming steadily towards them. The scylla were still pursing it, though it was futile, and looked like small worms compared to the monster's incredible size.

He let out a curse in Greek. "What _is_ that?"

Alek didn't bother explaining that he had seen the creature before; it would take too much time and probably sound incredibly confusing. "It's dangerous."

He nearly stumbled as the ship began to move slowly but surely. The ship groaned and creaked and the oars made a loud _splash!_ when they hit the water. It took a moment, but soon enough they were moving at a steady pace.

"Steady," Wolfgang called to Alek and the other riggers.

Alek swallowed and stood as still as he could. There was now a slight breeze blowing as the ship moved and small drops of rain were falling from the sky as they approached the storm. Save for the sounds coming from the water, it was eerily silent. He tried to calm himself with thoughts of Deryn, but that only made him more nervous. He should have been down there with her, making sure she was all right.

The breeze became stronger as the ship turned to starboard, towards the storm. Thin fingers of lightning flashed in the dark clouds and Alek felt the pitter patter of raindrops as the rowed towards it.

Wolfgang was still standing on the yard, balancing his weight on one foot and letting the other hang casually over the side. His eyes were closed and he was standing up straight, facing the wind as he held onto a rope. Though it seemed unlikely, he looked rather peaceful.

"Now!" Wolfgang hollered.

Alek pulled as hard as he could. At first he thought that the rope was stuck, for it wasn't pulling at all, but soon it did and the rigging groaned and the sails slowly filled with air. The ship moved along quickly and the riggers and crew below let out a cheer.

The moment was short-lived, however, for at the very moment the ship, as it was sailing through the water, began to lean slightly at an unnatural, odd angle. It was only a little, but noticeable enough for everyone to cease cheering.

Alek looked out but could find no sight of the monster. It was getting more difficult to see with the rain coming down harder as they reached the outskirts of the storm. The ship leaned again sharply, making a coil of rope slide off and down onto the deck. And then it settled back to normal.

Wolfgang jumped back onto the foredeck and yelled to everyone in the rigging, "Get down!"

Without question, the other riggers scrambling down the ropes as quickly as they could to the deck.

"Whatever that thing is," Wolfgang said hurriedly as he and Alek climbed down. "I think it's trying to capsize us."

The ship tilted as they climbed down to the deck and through the rain and the chaos, Alek could make out a dark, crocodilian tail in the water. He couldn't quite see how the creature was accomplishing such a feat, but he didn't see anything resembling claws it must have been using its nose. He tried to remember the Congo and if Cocijo had mentioned any of the monster's weaknesses or level of intelligence, but he couldn't.

However intelligent it was, the creature couldn't have realized that while it had stopped the ship's movement, it was actually pushing them into the storm, and, perhaps unintentionally, helping them into the wind. They were closed; Alek couldn't feel the wind blowing on its own and the rain was coming down quickly.

Alek noticed the Captain standing stoically near the helm. He must have been anticipating the creature continuing to push them into the storm, for he looked ready to direct the ship. Once they got into the tempest, it was likely that they could simply sail off into it.

That was, however, if they would be able to stay upright and not capsize before getting there.

As they moved to the opposite side of the deck where the crew had gathered, Alek found that it felt like they were going uphill. They must have thought that their gathered weight could counteract the tilt, but it didn't seem to be doing much good despite the fact that nearly the entire crew was there and then some. Haamid and Count Volger were at one end with the deckhands; and Bauer and even the doctor were at the other. Alek held on tight to the railing as did Wolfgang, and the ship's tilt continued growing steeper.

Thanks to the rain, the deck was now slick, making it difficult to stay in one place without one's feet sliding this way and that. Bauer, who happened to be holding on right next to Alek, was having particular trouble. His feet even slipped out from underneath him completely, and in reaction Alek immediately grabbed him.

"Thank you," Bauer said with a grateful nod. He yelled it, now with the rain coming down so heavy.

Alek nodded back at him and held fast to the railing.

Barrels rolled by as the tilt grew steeper. Thunder rumbled as they grew closer to the tempest and lightning crashed.

"Hold fast!" called Mr. Brandon. He was at the Captain's side, though he was now holding onto the railing as well.

The tilt grew steeper. And then he could feel their weight countering the tilt. A displeased roar that made Alek's ears ring came from beneath the ship. They were almost at a complete standstill: their weight against the monster's strength was leaving them perfectly balanced at a bizarre angle in the air.

"How is it doing that?" Alek asked over the rain.

"I've no idea!" answered Wolfgang.

Then they were pushed into the storm.

And as they were, the creature must have let go for the ship fell.

Just as he could feel the ship beginning to settle down, Alek saw a blur go by. He looked down and watched in horror as the Count slipped down the deck. He groped the surface for something to grab onto, but the wood was slick and wet. Before he even had time to think, Alek saw Count Volger plummet into the water.

And in a moment, Wolfgang snatched one of the ropes tied to the railing, let go, and slid down after him.


	21. Plunge

**Thank you, polarbear257, EllieStone, Jett-Wolfe98, and mrdirtguy3 for the speedy reviews! :D**

**All original characters and plotline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

_"Ernst, come swim with me!" __Esmé said from the middle of the pond._

___Ernst looked down at the water skeptically. "Are you sure this is all right? For the baby?"_

_____Esmé flopped onto her back and kicked her legs on the surface of the water as she swam about. "Gypsies believe it's good luck to swim under a full moon!"_

_____She couldn't see his face anyway, so Ernst didn't hold back from rolling his eyes a bit. From what he had learned from __Esmé, the gypsies believed a lot of things he found to be pure nonsense. _She_______ wasn't nonsense, of course; he loved ______Esmé in every way. It was just the beliefs of her heritage that he questioned._

_______"Besides," she continued. "I think he likes the water. Come in with me! It isn't that cold once you get in."_

_______He looked down into the water with dismay. Ernst could swim, quite well at that, so that wasn't the problem. And it wasn't that he didn't like swimming; he actually rather enjoyed it. It was the idea of being in a body of water so large with water so dark that he didn't know what was at the bottom - or swimming with them._

_______"Please," she added._

___________Ernst sighed and reluctantly stepped foot into the water, gritting his teeth at the sharp coldness of it. Though it was April and the ice was long gone, it felt like it had just thawed yesterday. _

___Esmé let out a victorious cheer and splashed about. He glanced up and saw her silhouette on the water in the moonlight, but the second time he looked she was gone._

_"__Esmé?" Ernst called. _

___No response._

___The cold, sticky mud stuck to his feet and his between his toes, making him shiver. The water rose to his waist as he waded further, looking for her. "Esmeralda!" he said a bit louder this time. His voice bounced off the bank and echoed through the wood. "Please come back!"  
_

___When the water came to his neck and he had to stand on his toes to stay afloat, he glanced around for her one last time. He was getting a bit worried now. Aside from the light of the moon, he couldn't see her and there was no way he would find her under the water, a thought he dreaded to even think. _

___He swam out to the middle of the pond, calling her name. And just when he really was getting truly nervous, he felt a sharp pull on his leg. He looked down at the water, but couldn't see anything. It happened again, and nearly pulled him completely underneath the surface. _

___Ernst felt frantic. He swam in a circle, trying to see what was underneath him, his imagination of monsters and godless Darwinist beasts running wild. Granted, his imagination of such things was fairly limited, but still terrifying. Just as he was about to kick at whatever was clearly attempting to drown him, ____Esmé breached the surface of the water, taking deep breaths in between her laughter._

_______It took him a moment to realize it was ____Esmé that had been antagonizing him. He glowered at her. "Do gypsies also find it good luck to drown people?"_

___________"No," she answered, still giggling shamelessly. _

___________"Very amusing, then," he said flatly._

_She smiled at him mischievously as she smoothed back her wet, dark curls, and then swam towards him. She slipped her arms around him, her swollen stomach touching his. "I'm sorry if I frightened you," she said, pressing her forehead against his._

_It was nice of her to apologize, but the glimmer in her eye told Ernst that she wasn't completely sorry. And he might have appreciated the gesture more if she wasn't dripping ice-cold water down the back of his neck._

_"I think I'm going to wait for you on shore," he said as he moved backwards. Once he could stand flat-footed, he tried to wriggle out of her grasp._

_She frowned, tightening her grip. "But I want you to stay with me."_

_"No, thank you," he said, taking her arms and unwrapping them from his neck. "You're a much better swimmer than I; I'll watch you."_

_____Esmé didn't say anything and Ernst swam away. Just as he was coming onto the bank, he called her name. "____Esmé? Where did we put the blanket?" he asked, wishing for it desperately to wrap himself up in. He walked around in the grass, trying to see in the dim light._

_________When she didn't answer, he looked back at the pond. "______Esmé?"_  


_________She had stopped swimming and was standing with the water just to her chest, though she had been following him out of the water. Her hands were under the water, presumably on her stomach, and she was standing stock still._

_________"____Esmé," he called again. "Are you all right?"_

_____________She looked up at him and shook her head negatively. _

_____________Immediately, Ernst forgot all above being cold and was splashing back into the water, wading as quickly as his legs would allow. When he came close, he heard her let out a cry of pain and saw her grimace as she held the curve of her stomach._

_____________"Darling," he said, breathlessly, "What's the matter?"_

_________________Esmé opened her mouth to answer but a small whimper came out. After a moment she was able to catch her breath and said, "That really hurts."_

_________________"What hurts?" he said, trying not to panic. "Is it the baby?"_

_________________She thought for a moment but shook her head. "I-I don't know."_

_________________Ernst took her elbow and led her to the shore. "We need to get you inside."_

_____________________Esmé nodded and let him guide her as they moved to the shore. Every few steps she would stop and inhale sharply, making Ernst's nerves get a bit more tense each time. Just when they were walking up the bank, she lost her footing and slipped. Ernst caught her just before she fell face-first onto the ground._

_____________________"I don't know if I can walk," she gasped as he wrapped the blanket around her._

_____________________"It's all right," Ernst replied, trying to stay calm. In one fluid motion, he placed one arm behind her knees and the other behind her neck. "I won't let you go."_

* * *

Volger tried to calm himself.

But his eyes stung and he choked from the saltwater he had swallowed, making concentrating on anything very difficult. It was dark; he could hardly see his hands in front of him as he tried to propel himself upwards and to the surface. It was all in vain, however, for the wild waves were pulling him this way and that, in every direction save for the one he needed to go in: up.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the sea. In the quick second everything was bright, he saw the hull of the ship to his left. When it went dark again, he turned himself in the direction and tried to swim towards it.

Another bolt of lightning struck, and in the brief moment the area in front of him was illuminated, Volger almost wished it hadn't been. Directly in front of him was the very source of the problem of him falling into the water. Rather neutrally, he took note of the large sail on its back, the sizeable claws, and its long, thick tail as it flicked back and forth in the water.

This wasn't any sort of godless fabrication; no man in his right mind would dare create something so nightmarish (at least, that's what Volger hoped). It had a long, crocodilian snout with sharp teeth jutting out from its mouth and was looking at him directly with its beady, dark eyes.

Then it went dark again, and Volger was glad.

But then he realized what he had just seen, and that it was in the water very close to him.

Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Volger kicked and spun his limbs madly, desperately fighting to get to the surface. He could feel himself starting to sink, and in one last, vain attempt, the Count swam with all of his might. Volger's fingers reached toward the small amount of light above him as he drifted down.

And then there was another splash just next to him. A pair of hands grasped his arms tightly and pulled him to the surface. Volger coughed and gasped at the sudden air, choking on the bit of seawater he had swallowed and took short, quick breaths.

"Breathe slowly, friend!" the rescuer shouted over the rain. Through the chaos and waves lapping into his eyes Volger couldn't see much, but he saw enough to make out a blurred face of someone he didn't know.

Volger nodded as he tried to steady his breathing.

"Better?"

"I think so," the Count answered.

"All right, hang on," he shouted. "Do you think you can swim?"

He pulled away from the young man and paddled a bit, but his legs were too tired to fight the current and he began to sink.

His rescuer grabbed onto him, taking on of Volger's arms and draping it across his own shoulders. He wrapped an arm around Volger's middle and held him tightly.

Volger tried to pull away.

"What are you doing?" the young man shouted.

Volger shook his head. "You can't take us both; we'll drown. I can manage."

The person laughed, and when he did, shivers went down the Count's spine. He knew that laugh.

"You underestimate me! Here," he said, releasing his grip on Volger. He reached into the water and pulled out a rope. He tied it around Volger and pulled him closer than Volger was comfortable with. But the rescuer didn't seem to mind at all. Volger squinted and tried to get a good look at him, but the rain was coming down hard and he felt a bit dizzy.

"Hold onto me, and they'll pull us back!" he shouted.

Volger nodded and then a large, strong wave swept them away from the ship. The rope must have been tied onto the deck somewhere, so it went upwards at a horizontal angle and went taut as they drifted away from it. Volger found himself clinging to the young man tighter than he realized, more scared than he would admit about being swept out to sea and of the creature below them.

The young man turned to him and in a clear, calm voice, said, "It's all right. I won't let you go."

* * *

Alek moved quickly to the rope that Wolfgang had taken with him. It was tethered to one of the metal spools on the railing the were used to hold down the ropes that made up the rigging. He saw it pulled taut, which meant Wolfgang was at the other end hopefully with Volger waiting to be pulled in. Alek began to struggle with the rope.

"Here!" came a voice behind him. It was Bauer. "Let me help you."

Bauer pushed in front of Alek to the railing and reeled in the rope much faster than he had been. So, Alek took the slack and wrapped it around the metal spool, giving Bauer more room.

Alek had to stop every once in a while and wipe the rain from his eyes. He could hardly see and it made everything quite blurry. The ship was moving again, however, free from the creature that had been ramming them. Perhaps the storm had been too much for it.

The ship bounced over a wave, causing the rope to jolt and slip from Alek's hands, burning them. Alek yelped and dropped the rope, biting down on his lip. His palms were hot and raw and stung terribly. Alek picked up a discarded sash, covered his palms with it, and continued pulling. The next bit of rope that came to him had red stains on it, from Bauer.

"Bauer!" he shouted over the rain. "Are you all right?"

Bauer paused and flicked both of his hands one at a time, blood mixing with the rainwater. "Yes," he said after he hand taken the rope again. "I'll be fine."

Just when Alek was going to suggest that they switch places, Bauer added, "There they are! I can see them!"

And there they were. Two specs in the dark sea, the Count was clinging to Wolfgang as they were being pulled in through the waves. Wolfgang had the rope wrapped around his arm, looking quite determined.

Alek gave up with the spooling once they were close enough and pulled the rope in behind Bauer. The rest of the sailors were all busy tending to the damages, making things go much slower than what was preferable. But soon enough they were hauling the two of them up in the air and over the side of the ship.

Volger and Wolfgang landed in a heap with a _thud!._ Wolfgang rolled onto his back and closed his eyes; his chest rose steadily and slowly as he caught his breath. The Count was lying on his stomach propped up by one elbow, coughing up sea water.

Alek leaned against the railing, catching his own breath. His hands burned and his arms were sorer than ever, but he couldn't imagine how Bauer was feeling. He was standing with his palms outstretched, examining the wounds. The burns were deep and bleeding. Alek tossed him the sash he had been holding, which Bauer took gratefully and squeezed it in his hands, wincing.

After a moment, Wolfgang stood abruptly. He stood up tall and straight as though he had just been leisurely watching the stars instead of swimming through and dragging another man through the roiling sea. He looked at Alek and said, "Are the sails all right?"

"I don't know," Alek answered, wiping some rain from his eyes. "I haven't been back up."

Wolfgang nodded. "Excuse me." And with that, he was climbing back up the ropes.

Volger seemed to catch his breath and with Alek's help, rose to his feet. Alek saw a light red stain on his soaked, white shirt. "Count! You're bleeding!"

The Count didn't answer but touched the back of his head. His fingertips came back with thinned red water on them. He looked at Alek and wavered where he was standing.

"Volger! Say something!" Alek yelled over the rain.

Volger looked at him and blinked, grimacing as he touched the back of his head again.

"I'll take him inside!" Bauer offered.

Alek nodded at him as Bauer led the Count downstairs. Alek looked out, trying to see through the rain, but there was no sign of the creature anywhere. Perhaps the storm had scared it off after all; maybe even the scylla. The dark, stormy water certainly wasn't anything he'd want to swim in.

He began to feel calmer, now that the monster was out of sight. The rain was miserable and a complete bother, but there was wind and they were moving. He looked at Mr. Brandon, who stood by the Captain's side at the helm, and then at the Captain. He looked unfazed as the rain pounded down on him, like he was immune to its effects. He looked this way and that with his eyes narrowed suspiciously. And quite suddenly, he yelled, "Brace yourselves! Waves!"

Alek followed the man's gaze and saw what he was talking about. It was unlike any sort of wave Alek had ever seen before: there were three sides to it, all moving at the same fast pace in the same direction: towards _Colossus_. It was angry and tall and moved faster than seemed possible. It was easily more than double the ship's height, and would either toss them or drown them completely.

"Hold fast!" Mr. Brandon shouted when it was nearly upon them.

Wolfgang and the rest of the riggers came down to the deck and each grabbed a rope, tying it around themselves and then to the railing; some did so to the mast. The rest of the crew did the same; it must have been the protocol in this type of situation. The Captain stood with his hands braced to the helm; Mr. Brandon held onto the anchor apparatus with a handful of deckhands.

Terror wasn't quite the correct word describing the emotion Alek felt at that very moment; more like a feeling of absolute dread. The odds were not looking favorable. He was the only person untethered to the deck and those that were shouted at him to do the same before it was too late. The wave moved towards them fast and before he allowed himself any more time to think about it, Alek ran as fast as he could to Deryn's room.

He shoved the door open and nearly tripped over a washbasin. The rest of the furniture in the room had been scrambled. The bed was against the opposite wall and Deryn was at the opposite of that, sitting on the floor. Bovril was clinging tightly to her chest, distressed.

"Alek! What in blazes is happening out there?" she asked while trying to pry the loris off.

Alek cursed himself for not bringing in a rope, but there was no time for that now. They'd have to make due. He closed the door and made his way over to her. "Hold on to me," he answered, kneeling down and gathering her to him.

"Why? What's going on?" she protested.

"There's a wave; we might capsize."

Deryn didn't respond but looked at him wide-eyed. Alek held her tight and close, shut his eyes, and waited.

But nothing happened.

After five or so minutes of sitting completely still, Deryn pulled away and looked at him skeptically. "Are you sure?"

Alek stood cautiously, expecting at any moment to be knocked over from the impact of a wave crashing down upon the ship, and stepped over to the small, round window. For some reason, he couldn't see anything: the glass looked frosted.

He opened the door and was met with a thick layer of fog. Slowly, he stepped onto the deck and was instantly drenched once again. He heard the crew talking quietly amongst each other.

The horizon was no longer visible; instead there was a thick, white blanket of mist. He could only see the deck and those on it; the outline of the mast and rigging were faint shadows. The rain had stopped and it was dimly bright. The ship moved smoothly, rocking ever so slightly.

He stopped next to Mr. Brandon, who was tapping the glass of his compass. "Mr. Brandon," he said quietly. "Where are we?"

"It's not working," the man said to himself, evidently not hearing Alek's question. He turned the compass over in his hands.

"We're in the Devil's Sea," said the Captain coolly. "The Dragon's Triangle. We have reached it."

"But I thought we were stopping in Guam?" Alek asked.

The Captain looked at him with a genuine apologetic face. "I am sorry, Aleksandar, but we have no choice but to go on now. I do hope your wife will be all right."

Alek didn't say anything. Deryn did seem to be doing a bit better, but the thought of having to wait even longer for a doctor wasn't comforting.

"According to our calculations, however," the Captain continued, "the Triangle is small. Once we locate the island, we could be done in a matter of hours. I am sorry we didn't stop, and I do hope she'll be all right, but now that we're here we must keep going."

* * *

The Count sat up. He found himself wearing his nightclothes, dry and warm in his bed in his and Bauer's shared room. Bauer was there, dabbing his palms with something.

"Bauer," he said, wincing at the volume of his voice.

Bauer glanced up at him, and then back down at his hands. "You're supposed to be lying down."

Volger ignored him. "Who came in the water after me?"

"You aren't supposed to be talking either," Bauer added.

The Count let out an irritated sigh and said, "Answer me and I'll lie back down."

Bauer stopped what he was doing. "I don't know his name. He's a rigger. It was very brave of him to go diving in after you; those waves were completely wild."

"Yes, it was," Volger said quietly to himself. Quickly, he grabbed his jacket from the nightstand and reached into the pockets. He felt very relieved when he made contact with the cold silver. He pulled it out of the pocket slowly into his hand, and ran his thumb over the cool, smooth stone. It looked just as he remembered; almost as new as the day he had given it to Esmé, save for a few small scratches.

_I'm not going to let you go._

Volger rubbed his temples as his head pounded and the words bobbed around in his mind.


	22. Cracks in the Glass

**To the person that reviewed Tikal, Ur Mom (it is not actually my mum; I asked!), whoever you are, THANK YOU. Your review was amazing.**_  
_

**And to the other person that reviewed Tikal, DaUndertoad, thank you so much! I'm really glad you like it! :) I've got to go back and edit it one of these days, but I was pretty pleased with how it came out. :)**

**DaUndertoad: you left ALL the reviews! Thank you so much, and I'm so happy you like the story. :) Almost the Bermuda Triangle! Trololol. The Devil's Triangle is actually a real thing, and I found that out when I was reading a book about the Bermuda Triangle. The ancient Japanese believed that sea dragons lived in the Devil's Sea/Dragon's Triangle. Actually, nothing's up with the old lady! She's just a cute little old lady with a kitty. :D Interesting observation about the bad guys being Russian! I've never thought about that, actually, but my bad guy is Russian for a reason we don't know yet. :D Thank you SO much for all of the reviews! It's SO great to hear from you, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story! :)**

**And, of course, thank you to Wolfish Moon, polarbear257, mrdirtguy3, Foreverblossoming, and Jett-Wolfe98. :D**

**Speaking of Jett-Wolfe98, did you guys know she's an AMAZING artist? She's been doing pieces of art for me, the most recent of which is a picture of Wolfgang. :D I have posted the link on my profile; go look! Her version of him is just as dreamy as I imagined. ;)**

**If anyone didn't know, the Black Forest is well-known for cuckoo clocks.**

**And tinker horse just means gypsy horse. They're really pretty and stocky little ponies that were bred originally by gypsies!**

**AND mrdirtguy3 asked me to elaborate on Mokele-Mbembe, and I wrote the longest, wordiest explanation EVER. If anyone else wants me to further explain, let me know and I'll be glad to! :)**

**All original characters and plotline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

_Ernst stared at the ceiling._

_It was strange to think that in a little over a month and a half, he was going to be a father. A father! They were going to have a son._

_He was so excited that at times he thought he would burst._

_The idea of birth, however, made him incredibly uncomfortable and quite nervous. So many things could go wrong. Everything about that idea made him terribly anxious, but what else could they do? Their nearest neighbor was five miles away and was a clockmaker, not a midwife or doctor. Esmé had assured him that she had assisted in countless births and she would be more than able to guide him through it. And she didn't seem nervous about any of it, so Ernst supposed he didn't have to either._

_His mind drifted as he thought of all the things he would teach their little boy: fencing, hunting, language, horseriding; the important things. He would be sharp as a whit and look up to Ernst, but certainly not be afraid of him as Ernst had been raised to fear his father. He would be handsome and strong, most likely tall, if he inherited anything from the Volger side. He would be lanky and an excellent rider, clever, and most likely have the Volger family temper (the chances of him escaping it weren't good from Esmé's side either; he would be half-Greek, after all)._

_But if he received more of Esmé's traits, he probably wouldn't be much different. Ernst did hope he'd escape the gypsy love of gambling and wandering, but she was so kind and smart and strong that he didn't mind. He would be very loud (again, the Greeks), but he would have the characteristics of an exceptional child._

_While Esmé had affirmed countless times that it was indeed a boy, Ernst couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if by some chance she was wrong and they had a girl instead. She would be beautiful, like her mother; absolutely stunning._

_But Esmé was probably right. She was the one, after all, carrying their child. The idea of having a son thrilled Ernst, though he did hope that if and when they did have more children, they had a daughter somewhere along the line. But for now, having one terribly beautiful woman to keep the questionable characters from would be enough._

_The soft clip-clop of a horse's hoof against the forest floor; the clicking of its master's teeth broke Ernst's train of thought. At first he thought it was just a dream, but then a loud whinny came from just outside the window. Ernst jumped, fully awake. Esmé was still beside him, fast asleep. He wriggled out of her embrace gently, pulled on a shirt, and reached for his sword. He had no idea who it could be, but bandits in the Black Forest were certainly not unheard of._

_He stopped at the window and looked through the gauzy curtain. There was a cloaked rider sitting perfectly still atop a dark horse. Ernst found it odd that the man was waiting in plain view, but he stepped outside nimbly to find out what he wanted._

_"Yes?" Ernst asked, making no effort to put the sword away, purposely letting it glint in the moonlight._

_The rider didn't answer but dismounted quickly and pulled the hood from his head to reveal a head of dark hair peppered with silver._

_"Heinrich," he said, stepping back in surprise. "Wh-what are you doing here?"_

_His youngest brother stepped towards him, close enough to look him in the eye._

_"Father sent me," he whispered._

_Ernst felt a tinge of anger and his grip on the sword tightened. "Why?" he barked, and then remembered to keep his voice down. "And how did you find us?"_

_Heinrich reached into his coat, making Ernst nervous. He grabbed his brother's wrist in natural reaction, and Heinrich quickly said, "Ernst! I am still your brother. You can trust me."_

_Ernst slowly released his hand and Heinrich pulled out of his coat a thick envelope sealed with red wax, pressed with the Volger family crest._

_"As to why I have come," he said, handing the envelope over, "is explained in here."_

_Ernst turned the envelope over in his hand, repeating his earlier question. "How did you find us?"_

_"I followed you when you left, Ernst," he whispered. "Though Father and Emile may not speak of you, I still think of you," he added, the look on his face both serious and sincere. "Mother and I miss you."_

_Ernst nodded at him. "Is Mother well?"_

_"Well enough, I suppose," Heinrich answered. "She stays in her room a lot more."_

_Ernst felt a bit guilty. "Make sure she's all right. Please."_

_Heinrich nodded and pulled his brother into an embrace. It was clumsy and typical of that shared between brothers, but Ernst and his brothers had never been especially close. Still, though, of the things from Austria that he missed, the company of Heinrich and his dear mother made the top of the list. "How much longer?" he asked as he pulled away._

_Ernst couldn't help but smile softly. "Less than two months."_

_Heinrich processed the information. "Is it a boy?"_

_Ernst nodded. "Alexandre, we decided."_

_"That's an excellent name," his brother said. "Well done."_

_"Heinrich," Ernst said, looking at the envelope. "What does Father want?"_

_"Hmm?" his brother said, looking over Ernst's shoulder. He spotted the lean-to that was a makeshift stable and his eyes widened. "I've no idea. Is this a tinker horse?" He ambled over to Zethos and let out an awed sound._

_"Yes, it is," Ernst answered, following him._

_""I've never seen one in person!" he said excitedly. "He's beautiful. What's his name?"_

_"Zethos."_

_"Zethos," Heinrich repeated. "Even Father would admit that there's nothing superior to a gypsy horse."_

_Zethos was normally nervous in the company of strangers, but even with Heinrich running his hand over his speckled, soft nose, Ernst wasn't the least bit surprised._

_Out of all of the Volger boys, Heinrich was the most compassionate, most soft-spoken of the group. His hair had begun to turn gray at an early age for seemingly no reason, and it was a joke in the family that it was because he was constantly stressed over the rough behavior of everyone else around him. He loved animals more than anything, and was more than once caught trying to sneak a bird with an injured wing into his room, or found with a handful of nuts for an abandoned baby squirrel. Father often said that it was a weakness, that Heinrich needed to be a man and not worry about nature. It was, after all, directly against the Clanker culture they had been so staunchly raised in. But he wasn't especially Darwinistic either; he loved natural animals, especially those found in the forest and even more especially: horses._

_A sound came from inside the house and Heinrich looked at Ernst. "I should be going," he said as he quickly mounted the horse again. "Everything's explained in the letter. I'll be back in two weeks for your answer."_

_Ernst scoffed. "And if I choose not to?"_

_Heinrich looked down at him. "Father told me you might say that. He said to read it and you might change your mind. You know how he is."_

_And with that, he dug his heels into the horse's side and they rode off in a gallop._

_He hardly had time to examine the sealed envelope when Esmeralda came to the doorway. Wearing her night coat, hand on the curve of her stomach, she asked, "Ernst, who was that?"_

_Esmé knew exactly what Ernst's father and most of his family thought of her, and if he told her that his brother had come carrying his Father's word, she would be terribly upset. He looked at her, and before he knew what he was saying, "No one. He was just lost."_

_"Oh," she said as he reached her. "This far out?"_

_"Indeed," he replied, mentally kicking himself for lying to her, and without even consciously doing so!_

_"But why do you have your sword?"_

_Ernst looked down; he'd nearly forgotten he had. "Just a precaution. Let's get you back inside, yes?"_

_She nodded and took his extended hand._

_Esmé fell back asleep almost instantly, but Ernst couldn't. He stayed up and read the letter from his father over and over and was filled with fear and disbelief each time he read it._

* * *

That had been the beginning of the end, when everything began falling apart.

Volger stared up at the ceiling. His head bothered him less now and he felt well enough to go up to the deck. Bauer had left hours ago and the room was quiet. He could go upstairs to the navigational room, or even to find the person that had saved him that previous evening.

But Count Volger didn't want to.

What was he going to say? _Hello, I'm responsible for half of your existence. You probably want nothing to do with me but I've been searching for you for twenty years. _His son would slam the figurative door in his face most likely, and that would be the end of that. The entire voyage completely fruitless.

_Ernst, _however, was far ore optimistic and wished desperately to do so.

Count Volger looked back at his past life when he was younger skeptically, wondering how he was able to bare being so optimistic about things, so excruciatingly cheerful. The more he thought about it, the more he remembered the feeling of happiness he had.

Maybe he wouldn't be turned away. Perhaps Esmé had explained everything to him, and perhaps the boy himself had been looking for him, too!

Volger sighed and was leaning heavily towards waiting a bit longer, but then remembered:

His cowardice was what tore them apart in the first place.

No, the longer he drew it out the worse it would be. And with last night, what a close call! He couldn't die without knowing his son; he absolutely couldn't.

But the tiny grain of the fear of rejection was still firmly embedded in the back of his mind. Volger had what he felt was a fairly accurate guess of the degree of the pain he had put Esmé through, and he didn't think he was strong enough to endure it himself.

He conceded to go up to the navigational room and keep busy. He glanced up at the rigging as he walked across the deck, his eyes caught up looking in the ropes-

"Oh!" he exclaimed as he ran into Bauer. Volger held the barrel Bauer had been carrying steady while he got his balance back. "Excuse me."

"Feeling better?" Bauer asked, his grip on the barrel tight. He brought it over to he corner and stacked it onto top of another.

Volger nodded. "Yes, thank you."

"Are you going to the navigational room?"

Volger nodded again.

Bauer hoisted another barrel. "I'm sure they'll be glad to have you; I heard that the instruments aren't working properly."

Volger raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Bauer stopped and leaned one elbow on a barrel, catching his breath. "I'm not sure, but Finnegan told me that the compasses aren't spinning properly. Or maybe it was pointing in the wrong direction; I don't quite remember."

Well, at least he'd have plenty to occupy his mind. "Interesting," Volger said. "I'll be on my way, then."

Bauer nodded as the Count walked away. "Oh!" he called.

Volger spun on his heel and looked at him. "Hmm?"

"The rigger. The one that saved you. I asked someone, and they told me his name. I haven't met him, though; he's up there somewhere," he said as he motioned to the rigging.

The Count swallowed. "And?"

"It's Wolfgang."

Volger's stomach dropped. "_Wolfgang_?"

Bauer nodded as he began lifting barrels again. "A German name."

Volger continued walking to the navigational room, though much slower now. "German, indeed."


	23. Creases

**Thank you EllieStone, JettWolfe-98, Da Undertoad, polarbear257, Guest, and mija. :D You are all awesome and I appreciate each of your kind words and thoughts SO much. :D**

**Hi, Da Undertoad! I'm glad to hear from you again, four times at that! :)  
Sorry I didn't answer your question before! I must have missed it. So, to answer your question: no! At least, I don't think so. Though I haven't finished it yet, I can promise that there won't be any overly sexual references in this story! The T rating is mostly for future violence. They were just snuggling in chapter 16. :) I imagine Deryn to want to have children eventually, but I think she would be more... wary of the idea than Alek would. I dunno! :) Thank you for all of the wonderful compliments, questions, and thoughts! :) And yes, black forest ham! Black forest cake, black forest clocks! The Black Forest is just the coolest. :D**

**All original characters and plotline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

_"Ernst, why are you looking at me like that?"_

_"Hmm? Like what?"_

_Esmé looked up at him, smiling slightly. "Like you're never going to see me again."_

_He gazed down at her, studying in her features. The slight wrinkling around her eyes and mouth when she smiled; how her deep, dark eyes were somehow bright; the way her nose scrunched slightly when she laughed. He loved to listen to her talk: how the letter "r" seemed to roll off of her tongue and he found it charming (though sometimes not so much) when her voice became very loud whenever she was excited (or angry). He was fascinated by the coins and small baubles braided into her wavy, dark hair; how that, combined with the bracelets she wore, made her jingle when she walked. He could always hear her whenever she moved or danced._

_It was odd: he never imagined himself be with a woman like her. One so eclectic, cheerful; beautiful. But then again, he never really imagined himself with anyone: Ernst had seen the daily strife in his parents' marriage and perhaps that had taken his interest from the subject._

_But Esmeralda; oh, Esmeralda! He didn't want to imagine himself anything _but_ married to her. They had every intention to, but there were other forces at work; forces of a certain relative that did not want or care about their happiness._

**_Father._**

_"I'm just going to miss you," he said, cupping her cheek with his hand._

_She placed one of her hands over his and held it there. "I'm still going to be here when you get back. It's only going to be a few days, _agapai moi_."_

_"Oh," he said. She thought it was just going to be a quick trip that they almost always took to get supplies. "I'm going to walk, so it will be a bit longer."_

_Her smile disappeared. "Ernst! That's almost two weeks! Just take Zethos."_

_Ernst had prepared himself for that reaction. He shook his head and firmly answered, "No. I want the horse to be here if you should need him."_

_Esmé looked crestfallen. "Oh. I wish you would take him, though. I don't know about being alone for that long… Especially with the baby coming in less than a month, she said quietly, her hand grazing her very swollen stomach._

_Ernst swallowed. Leaving her in the first place was terrible enough, but doing so while she was so pregnant was even worse. As long as she stayed at the house, she'd be safe. "You're going to be fine," he said, trying to sound reassuring. "Do you remember where I left my extra saber?"_

_She nodded. "Next to the fireplace."_

_"Then you'll be all right," he said, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. He held her for as long as he could, his nose buried in her soft, sweet-smelling hair.. And then he gently held both of her arms and kissed her soundly._

_"Goodbye, Esmeralda," he said, pressing his lips to her forehead gingerly. "I love you."_

_She smiled up at him. "See you soon," she said cheerfully._

_Ernst bit back a sigh and forced himself to smile at her. "See you soon."_

_He pressed one last kiss to her cheek before picking up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder, and stepping out of the door. He did so reluctantly, every bone in his body wanted to stop and go back. Instead, he stopped at the stable and ran his hand over Zethos' velvety nose. "Take care of her, old boy," he said quietly. He was such a beautiful horse, but Ernst would feel better about the whole situation leaving him with Esmé. He belonged more to her than to him, anyway._

_When he stepped back on the path, Esmé was still standing in the doorway; hand on her stomach, smiling at him fondly. Ernst stopped to look at her, and in an instant he knew he shouldn't have._

_He could go back inside and confess everything to her and forget about meeting Heinrich in an hour. He could stay with his beloved and their child and live out their days blissfully with peace, quiet, love; simplicity._

_Until he was arrested, however, and then everything would be shattered._

_**You will be convicted of-**_

"Count Volger?" Haamid said for the third time.

"Hmm?" the Count answered, breaking his concentration.

Haamid looked at him uncertainly. "Are you feeling well?"

Volger blinked away the daydream. He _felt_ fine; he was _distracted_.

When he didn't answer, Haamid continued, "Perhaps you should go back to your cabin and rest. I think we've tried just about everything we can for today."

The Count glanced down at the dissembled compass in front of him. It was a Clanker make, one he knew well, yet he was unable to discover anything wrong with it. Klopp would be the ideal person to present it to, but he wasn't here and there was no way to get a letter to him, so Volger had decided to test his memory with mechaniks. Everything looked just the way it ought to be - to him, at least, but it turned out to be more of a headache than a help.

"I think I'm all right," he answered, idly arranging the compass' innards into a neat pile.

"I insist. It's unlikely we'll have much to do for a while, actually. With no compasses, it's a bit difficult navigating. Rather tiresome, isn't it? Feel better!"

Volger would have protested that he was fine, but he supposed Haamid was right. There wasn't much to do and the back of his head was starting to throb again, so he might as well.

"Thank you," he said as he trudged back to his room.

He placed his hands behind his back as he walked slowly across the deck. It must have been late afternoon by now, but it was difficult to tell with the fog. He shuddered and was glad he wore his coat - the temperature had decreased significantly since they'd entered this mist. He allowed his mind to drift as he stepped down the stairs.

-_** and arrested on account of high treason.**_

_And he would be. Franz wouldn't want it; he of all people would understand, but not even he was above the law. And especially if Father was behind it: he would do everything in his power to make sure it happened._

_If they even had time to get married, Esmé would be left alone, labeled by society as not only a gypsy, but the wife of a convict and traitor as well. Ernst knew he couldn't put Esmé through that torment, especially when it was his fault. He__ would never see either of them again. The idea of being imprisoned and missing Esmeralda was overwhelming enough, but if he stayed with her until their child was born and _then_ was taken away, he knew it would be unbearable._

This is the easiest way, _he told himself for the thousandth time that morning. He had thought the consequences through every night since he'd gotten the letter and decided that this was the only option. It was, after all, hard to miss someone you've never met.  
_

_Ernst felt his throat get hot and it became difficult to breath. He looked away as she came towards him._

_Esmé's expression was serious as she gently turned his face towards her. "Darling, what's the matter?" _

_He shook his head, worried that his voice would break and give it all away._

_"Don't go," she said, taking both of his hands in hers. "We can wait until after the baby is born. I don't need flour _that_ badly. Stay with us."_

_Ernst took a deep breath and attempted to regain some of his composure. "It's all right. I'll be back as soon as I can."_

_Esmé didn't look convinced but only gave him a skeptical look. "Wait here. I'll just be a moment."_

_She hustled inside the house as quickly as she could and came back just as fast with something small in her hand._

_"Here," she said, tugging at his lapel. On it she pinned one of the cherry blossoms they had picked just the day before. "That way you'll have something that reminds you of me with you."_

_He could never forget her. He fingered the delicate flower and nodded. "Thank you."_

_"Now get going! The sooner you leave, the sooner you'll return." She grinned._

_He kissed her again soundly, pulling her close against him. _

_"I love you, Ernst," Esmé muttered against his lips. "And I'll be right here waiting when you come back."_

_The embrace ended far too soon, but Ernst savored every second of it, especially when his hand brushed her stomach and a very distinct flutter responded to his touch. He did hope their son, and __Esmé for that matter, could forgive him._ "I love you, Esmeralda."

_And with that, he forced himself to pull away quickly, before he could think anymore of what he was doing. He stepped backwards, slowly turning around and breaking his gaze from her._

_"When you come back," she called from behind him, "I'll make a thousand cherry tarts."_

_He forced a smile and waved to her, walking until she and their house and Zethos were out of view. He paused once he was a good distance away, crouched on his haunches, and forced himself to breathe slowly. He felt faint and dizzy, like he was going to be sick._

_"She's going to be better off," he muttered, trying to reassure himself. "Both of them."_

_The thought made his heart ache. It was very strange, something Ernst never thought he'd experience or understand when he heard others speak of it, but though he hadn't formally met their child, he knew he loved him already. He was certain it sounded absolutely ridiculous, but he knew it was true._

_He felt his eyes get very wet and squeezed them shut. And he told himself then and there that he would not allow himself to cry. He didn't deserve it, first of all, and he knew it would only make him want to go back more._

_No, he didn't deserve the comfort. He didn't deserve anything: he was a monster. Father was right: he was a traitor. To his country, yes, but more important to Ernst was that he had betrayed his beloved and their child as well. They needed him far more than any archduke ever would, and he had betrayed them in the worst possible way._

_Ernst jumped when a woodpecker knocked on the bark of a tree just beside him. It was the kind __Esmé had always enjoyed seeing from their kitchen window: the back of its head was red; its breast cream-colored; its wings and back a lovely shade of green. Under any other circumstance, Ernst might have found it a comforting sight, but on this particular morning it wasn't appreciated. It sat on its branch, knocking on the tree and staring at him the rest of the time. It made the guilt of what he was doing come to surface and so Ernst picked himself and forced himself to walk on, glaring at the bird._

_He was in such a state that it took him an hour and a half longer than it should have to find Heinrich. He was sitting on the ground in the most typical Heinrich pose: with his back against a log and feeding bits of apple to a chipmunk._

_"Ernst!" he said when his brother finally stumbled into view. The chipmunk ran away and Heinrich stood. "You had me thinking you weren't coming."_

_Ernst didn't say anything as he climbed onto the extra mare Heinrich had brought. She was lovely and fawn-colored, but nothing like Zethos. Gypsy horses were stocky and tough; Zethos could ride the entire distance to Stuggart with a fifteen minute break. They'd probably have to stop and spend the night with these delicate creatures. He'd never meet another horse like him._

_"What?" Ernst said defensively, tired of his brother staring._

_"This is your answer, then?"_

_Ernst looked away but nodded. "Yes."_

_Heinrich slipped into the saddle. "What exactly did Father say, if you don't mind my asking?"_

_"He didn't tell you?"_

_Heinrich shook his head negatively. _

_Ernst sighed. "You'll be better off not knowing."_

_Heinrich didn't say anything but continued to gawk at his brother._

_"What?" Ernst said after a moment, growing annoyed._

_"It's nothing," Heinrich answered, looking away._

_"It's something if you're going to keep looking at me like that."_

_In a quiet voice, Heinrich looked at him and said, "I didn't think you would come. Quite honestly, I hoped you wouldn't."_

_Ernst blinked. "Me, too."_

_"I wish that Father wasn't expecting you, or I'd send you back," Heinrich said wryly. "But I'm sure Mother will be glad to see you."_

_Ernst toyed with the idea, only for a brief moment. Heinrich was kind and understanding; he would help Ernst if he asked. But he couldn't. That would put not only Ernst in deeper trouble, but __Esmé and their baby and his youngest brother as well._

___He cleared his throat and pushed the thought away. "Let's go."_

* * *

"I'm glad you've got your appetite back," Alek said as he watched Deryn practically inhale the bowl of porridge he had brought her. It was a late for breakfast food, but Deryn didn't seem to mind in the least.

"Aye," she said between bites, "me, too."

Bovril hopped into Alek's lap and rubbed itself against his arm, forcing him to pet it.

"Oh!" Deryn exclaimed, pausing.

"What?"

"Hand me that sketchbook, please, the one next to you. I think I've found something about the drawing you saw the other day. Did you manage to skulk back in there and get a better look?"

Alek passed her the leather-bound book. "Not yet."

"Well," she said as she balanced the oatmeal on a pillow and thumbed through the pages, "when you do, tell me if it's got anything to do with this."

Deryn handed the book to him and Alek looked at the page. "What is this from?" he asked as he studied it. The pages were yellowed and stained lightly. There were no sketches on it, but rather words scattered about.

She took a bite of toast. "See, that's just it." She swallowed. "I didn't write that."

Alek looked at her. "Who did?"

She shrugged. "Someone that doesn't speak English, apparently, because I can't read a word of it. My sketchbook must have gotten mixed-up with the owner of this one. I was rather rushed in packing my things, if you'll remember."

Alek did remember quite well how they had fled Tikal and therefore could completely understand how something like this could have gotten jumbled. He thumbed through the rest of the book, seeing words he recognized here and there, but no pictures. Perhaps it was a journal. "I think this is French."

"Can you read it?"

He squinted at the words and held the book away to try to get a better look. Whoever had written them down didn't have the best penmanship. "I see.. _serviteur."_

Deryn chewed thoughtfully. "Is that 'servant'?"

"It is, Alek answered. "'The Servant'. It appears as though someone described this to the person writing it down."

"My guess is that it was Dmitri," Deryn said, taking a gulp of tea.

"How do you know?"

"Everything's scattered. He was always terribly scatterbrained. Can you read the rest of it?"

The writing was terribly slanted and small in addition to being scattered all over the page in no particular order; that and the pen it was written from was terribly blotty. Alek didn't think he'd be able to read it unless he somehow managed to find a microscope. "I don't know. Maybe in better light."

"You can keep it with you. It's not mine anyway," she said as she finished the last bit of her tea. "So did I hear that the Count bumped his head last night?"

"Apparently so," Alek said as he stroked Bovril's velvety back. The creature responded with a pleased _purr_. "He's all right, though; the doctor said he just needed to rest." Then he paused. He hadn't seen her since before last night. "Did I already tell you that?"

"Morgan told me."

"When did you see him?"

"This morning. He came by before you were up."

Alek blinked. "He did?"

"Aye," she answered. "He said he couldn't sleep and wanted to know if I needed anything."

"That's odd," Alek said to himself. "But thoughtful, I suppose."

"He reminds me of you when you were younger," Deryn said with a small smile. "I like him."

Alek quirked an eyebrow, but didn't take the comment as negative. "How so?"

"He's so barking nervous around girls," she laughed.

"Yes, he is," Alek said, not denying the fact that he was once like that, too. Well, not exactly nervous; more... uncertain. "I don't think he's spent a lot of time around them."

"And neither did you," she said, giving him an amused look. "Until you scraped one off of the ice."

"Yes, indeed," he said. "And she turned out to be a most interesting specimen."

"I heard she's barking brilliant."

"Of course she is," he said, taking her hand and loosely lacing their fingers together. "Was that really five years ago?"

"Mmhm," she answered, her mouth full of porridge.

"You know, I actually thought that he was Volger's son," Alek said with a chuckle. "Morgan."

Deryn scraped the last bit of oatmeal from the dish. "Oh, it's not Morgan," she said casually. "It's Wolfgang."

Alek chuckled at such a notion. "It can't be Wolfgang. He's-" He stopped and thought of the statement. Hadn't Wolfgang said he was Greek? "Wait a moment," he said slowly. "How did you know that?"

Deryn stopped. "You didn't?"

"Daft prince," said Bovril from Alek's knee.

More pieces of the puzzle fell together. "You knew and didn't tell me?" answered Alek.

"You've no right to snap at me, thanks very much," she said back, tone rising. "Honestly, Alek: I thought you'd have figured it out by now. You've been sleeping in the same room! They have the same barking eyes: how did you not notice?"

"_I_ haven't been staring into Wolfgang's eyes," he shot back without thinking. He was overtired and had so much on his mind, though that was no excuse. Immediately he realized his mistake but when he started to apologize Deryn's expression went flat and her eye twitched slightly.

Poor choice of words.

"Mayday," said Bovril, slithering off Alek's leg and onto the floor.

Deryn then fired off every curse she knew and unfortunately, Alek was at the receiving end of it.

"And if you ever even think of implying that I've been mooning over some other man, Aleksandar von Hohenberg," she said, pointing a threatening finger dangerously close to him and making him back away nervously, "Maybe I will."

Deryn sat back into the pillows and huffed, still glaring at him.

Alek frowned; he knew she didn't mean it. "I'm sorry," he said, sliding his hand into hers. She was tense but didn't pull away. "I didn't mean it like that, I just… I can't believe it's happened again."

"Again?"

"When I was last to find out you were a girl," he said, rubbing his temples with his free hand. "How do I never realize things when they're right in front of me?"

She softened slightly. "I'm sorry, love; I really thought you knew by now. I might have told you, but I haven't seen you much."

Deryn ran her thumb over his knuckles and Alek sighed. "Well, I suppose I should go tell Volger."

Deryn tightened her grip on his hand. "No, you can't!"

Alek furrowed his brow. "Deryn, the man's been looking for his son for twenty years. I should think he has some right to know-"

"Not _that_," she interrupted. "Wolfgang. He doesn't like noblemen, and if he finds out it's the Count… I don't think he'll take it well."

That would pose a problem. "What should we do, then? Wait?"

Just as she was about to answer, a knock came from the door. Wolfgang stepped in immediately and smiled at them both cheerfully.

"Hullo, Hohenbergs!" he said as he nodded at them both. "Deryn, how are you feeling today?"

"I feel better, actally," she said.

"Good to hear. Say, might I be able to borrow your husband for a moment or two? I'll return him; I promise," he said, smiling.

Deryn looked up at Alek and between her teeth she whispered, "Don't. Say. Anything!"

"Sorry?" Wolfgang said, quizzical expression on his face. "Didn't quite catch that-"

"Aye, take him; he's all yours," she said, releasing his hand. Alek watched her face as he walked towards the door slowly, not sure if he should be frightened or confused about her expression.

"Can you help me lift this?" Wolfgang asked, motioning to a haphazardly folded sail. "I've tried at least a thousand times and can't fold it by myself."

Alek eyed it warily. It was enormous. "I can try."

It turned out to be quite a chore but after two tries, they managed.

"Thanks very much," Wolfgang said as they brought the last piece together, thus creating a thick pile of creases. "That was really helpful of you. Can you believe the sun's going down already? This day's gone by so quickly."

"It has," Alek agreed, shielding the setting sun from his eyes with one hand. The light was dull orange, though it was foggy. He looked out toward the horizon but couldn't see much past the mist.

"Are you going to see Deryn?"

"...She's probably sleeping," Alek said. And she probably was, though he would have like to go and sit with her for a bit.

"Oh! That makes sense. I'll see you, then!"

Alek looked at the direction in which Wolfgang was headed: opposite of his room. It wasn't any of his business, but Volger's room was in that direction as well. "Are you going to bed?" he asked. "You must be exhausted."

"Oh, I certainly am," Wolfgang said, continuing to walk. "That swim really wore me out; I didn't sleep much last night. I thought I'd stop in and see that Count, though. You know, to see how he's doing."

"No!" Alek said, in a tone a bit louder than he meant to. Wolfgang gave him an odd look. "I mean, don't you think he's resting?"

"It was only a bump on the head," Wolfgang said, his expression slightly amused as he turned back around and continued walking. "Besides, I haven't met him yet and he sounds so terribly interesting. I'll just say 'hello' to the chap and be on my way. You don't have to wait for me; I'll be quiet when I come in."

Before Alek could stop him, Wolfgang was going to down the stairs.

"Well, you see, it's not that," Alek attempted, but he didn't know what to say.

Wolfgang paid him no mind. "I think this is it," he said as he stopped in front of the door.

Alek held his breath when Wolfgang rapped loudly on the door twice and waited for an answer.

"Well, I guess you were right," he said casually to Alek as he turned around. "Sorry, what were you saying before?"

Alek was just breathing a sigh of relief when someone spoke. His stomach dropped as he heard the low voice of the Count from the other side of the door say, "Come in."

"Ah, there we are," Wolfgang said cheerily as he went in.


	24. Anamnesis

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_Of course when Ernst had arrived at the estate, Father had been unavailable. He suspected it was on purpose, for one of his father's oldest tactics that he often used on Ernst was letting him sit for hours uninterrupted to stew over his actions, wondering, before presenting him with the actual consequences._

_Ernst was here now, ready to meet his Father's demands, but he wasn't doing it for money or his ridiculous bribes or even himself: he was doing it for his beloved and their child._

_"Are you through with your brooding?" his father said from the doorway. If he had been listening closely, Ernst might have detected the uncharacteristic weakness in his father's tone._

_But he didn't. Ernst stood and moved inches from his father's face, livid. "This is your doing," he hissed._

_Father narrowed his eyes, not even trying to look apologetic. "Indeed it is."_

_Ernst moved away from him and ran a hand through his thick hair. He didn't try to put on a front: Father was better than anyone he knew at seeing through other's guises. There was no point in hiding that he was upset. "I can't stay here... I have to go back," he muttered as he looked over the letter for the hundredth time. On the way, he had decided that he would make his own demands. At the top of that list was having Esmé with him. He wouldn't have that or he would leave._

_"Did you forget the paragraph listing the crimes you'll be charged with? You will rot in prison without seeing them ever again." Father said calmly as he poured himself a glass of brandy. Ernst hated the drink; he had smelled it far too many times on his father's breath. "I am more than able - and willing - to present you with my title, you know," he said as he took a sip. One sip was not enough, for he threw his head back and swallowed the rest of the glass in a single gulp. He refilled the glass. "If you reconsider, of course."_

_The thought of not being with them made Ernst's heart ache._

_"It would be the more unselfish decision," Father added, knocking his head back with the glass pressed up to his mouth._

_"And how do you deduce that?" Ernst retorted._

_"You stay with her out of guilt for bearing your offspring."_

_"Father, I love her!" he shouted, completely exasperated. "Why is that so difficult for you to understand?"_

_"You do not!" he shouted back, tone also rising. "Mere infatuation. I'll give it to you, son; she is quite beautiful. But beauty is only skin deep. Once she gives birth to that _cur,_ she'll have you trapped for the rest of your life! She only wants your money. She's a harlot and a gypsy; no more than a thieving mutt!"_

_Ernst's mouth fell open incredulously. "How dare you-"_

_"And how dare you come into my house and accuse me of conspiring!"_

_"You ordered me to come here!" he shouted, thoroughly angry now. "You act like it's her fault! I was the one that spoke to her, Father; I asked her to _marry _me! How do you think she got pregnant?"_

_Anger flashed in his Father's eyes. "That is enough-"_

_But Ernst wasn't finished. "If you accuse her of being a harlot one more time, then you had better accuse me of the same thing because I loved her back," he said. "And I will never regret a moment of it."_

_A calculating gleam came into Father's eyes and he took a new approach with a much softer tone. "Forget about her, Ernst, and we shall never speak of it again."_

_"What if she looks for me? She'll wonder where I am." Just saying it pained him; he couldn't believe the words were coming from his mouth._

_"Where does she think you are?"_

_He ran a hand through his hair and plopped into a chair. "Stuggart. She's expecting me back in a day - I didn't know what to say."_

_"Then we'll take care of it," Father said._

_Ernst immediately shot him a threatening look. "If you hurt her-"_

_He put his hands up defensively. "Not a hair on her mongrel head."_

_Ernst shot him a glare, meant to be a warning, but he was too distraught and too tired to answer. He hadn't been able to sleep or eat in several days; he just couldn't. He couldn't stop thinking about her, wondering if she was all right. He placed his head in his hands, sick to his stomach._

_"All right," he said, sighing. "I'll do it."_

* * *

_It was a stiflingly hot day, not uncommon for early July. But Ernst felt a chill he could not chase. It was inside of him, an icy barrier that would not thaw no matter what the temperature. He could feel the anxious tightness in his chest, uncomfortable though bearable. Was she all right? Had she had the baby yet? Did she know where he was?_

_He glanced outside. The sun was shining and the sky was blue, but he felt so gloomy. The world was grey and cold and dim without her._

_Ernst sat at the new desk he had been given. The surface was shiny and smooth and ill-made for a person of his height; his knees banged against it constantly. He swallowed and shuffled the few papers he had stacked upon it. It was his third day working for father, though he wouldn't be officially Count Volger until Father had died, and he hadn't the slightest idea of what to do. There were no chickens or horse to feed, no wood to be brought in, no cherries to pick; no Esmé to bid good morning to. He'd slept in a cold, uncomfortable bed, tossing and turning the entire night. He was exhausted but completely unable to sleep. He couldn't stop thinking of _her_. _

_He jumped when a soft knock came from the door, and did a double-take when he glanced up and saw who it was._

"_Esmé," he said quietly. "What are you doing here?"_

_She raised an eyebrow at him. "I was going to ask you the same thing. Why haven't you come home?"_

_He swallowed._ "_This is my home now."_

_She blinked. "What?"_

_He set his jaw, took a deep breath, and tried to imagine other things as he spoke. "You should leave."_

_"Pardon me?"_

_He looked up at her pleadingly. "Please go."_

"_Ernst, I've been waiting for you for days! I had no idea where you were – do you know how worried I was?"_

"_Just leave!" he said in a tone a bit sharper than he meant._

_She jumped a bit at his tone. "It's your father, isn't it? What lies has he fed you?"_

"_Don't," he snapped. He knew she was right and if she kept speaking, everything he had worked so hard to convince himself of would crumble._

_"I don't understand," she said quietly. Her hand rested on the bump in her middle; it had grown since he had last seen her. The idea of her riding with so little time left before the baby was due for arrival made him terribly nervous. "Don't you want to be with us?"_

More than anything,_ he thought to himself. "I-" he said, fiddling with his pen. He opened his mouth to speak but he couldn't find the right words. "I just can't. Esmeralda, you shouldn't be here."_

_She didn't say anything for a moment. "Liar."_

_He glanced up at her, and she looked thoroughly irritated. Her eyes were full of tears but she was clearly angry. And she had every right to be._

_He closed his eyes. He needed to calm himself: it was going to be much easier for both of them if he remained detached from the situation. He reached into his desk and pulled out a small sack of coins._

_"Here, take this," he said, pushing it towards her. "I'm sorry there's not more."_

_She ignored the money. "Ernst! Please, don't do this," the woman pleaded. "I want to be with you. I want all of us to be together." Her hand rested gently on the protruding curve of her stomach._

_"You and I both know there is a better future for both you and our child without me," he said while idly moving some papers around the desk, trying not to let his voice show his pain. The handsome, young Count paused. "Esmé, I wanted nothing more than for it to work, for us to be together… But my duty must come first."_

_Tears began to fall from her eyes. "I loved you," she said._

_He looked at her. He wanted to say it back, every fiber of his being wanted to declare his love for her from the rooftops, but he couldn't give her false hope. It would never work: he had sworn himself to the services of his friend, the archduke. And the archduke and his wife were about to have a son of their own, whom he had sworn to mentor and teach until he reached adulthood. He wouldn't have time for marriage or a child of his own. And he couldn't tell Franz. Oaths were impossible to get out of; relationships were much easier to end. It pained him when his father pointed out that there was really only one thing to do._

_Their romance was doomed from the beginning, really: a count with a commoner. One descended from gypsies, at that. But she wasn't like the other commoners he had been taught to treat as though they were below him! She was smart and clever; and so, so beautiful. She was fierce and strong, not afraid to speak her mind. He felt happiness and joy he never knew existed when he was around her._

_She would have been the perfect Countess, but his father had forbidden it from the start. It didn't matter much by the law, but it was Volger's father that took an instant distaste to her simply because of her heritage. Sometimes Ernst wished he would have heeded his father's advice and had never gotten involved. He might have never known true love or joy, but it would have saved them both from this terrible heartache, the difficulties that undoubtedly lie in wait ahead._

_"This was a mistake," she hissed while wiping the tears from her eyes. "It should have never happened."_

_Her words stung. "Yes, I do agree," he answered slowly._

_She moved towards the door. "This is it, you know. You will never see me or the child again."_

_He hesitated, but nodded after a moment. "Esmeralda," he added once they were outside. She mounted onto her horse and turned to look at him. "Please, don't tell him. Don't ever tell the child who I am."_

_She hesitated for a moment, setting her jaw to hold back the tears. "He won't even know your name." She rode off without looking back._


	25. Kolniður

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_It was that evening that Father's condition worsened significantly. His body was no longer able to process the copious amounts of alcohol he had been drinking for his whole life, and from what the doctor had said it simply gave up. Evidently he had been struggling with it for quite some time, but of course Ernst had been too wrapped up in his own affairs to notice._

_The time Ernst had spent in the military as a cavalry officer desensitized him from death for the most part. It was an experience he had seen before, and would likely see again. Still, however, sitting there at his father's side in his last moments was something he would never forget._

_"Ernst," he called weakly._

_"Yes?"_

_Father motioned for him to come closer, which Ernst did. He leaned in close, close enough to be able to smell the sickeningly sweet scent of brandy on his breath, until his ear was nearly pressed to the old man's mouth._

_"You're the Count now, son," he whispered. "You've done it."_

_Ernst thought for a moment. "Done what?"_

_"Where is your heart, Ernst?"_

_Ernst paused. The words gave him chills. "Pardon?"_

_"Where is your heart?" he whispered again. _

_He turned to his mother with a confused look. She shook her head at him tearfully. "The doctor said he might be like this. It's the medicine. You don't have to stay, dear," she said as she kneeled beside her husband, taking his hand._

_Ernst stepped outside into the hall, closing the door softly behind him. Emile and Heinrich were there. Heinrich looked morose from where he was sitting and Emile's usual stoic, hard expression was slightly softened._

_"Is he…?" Heinrich asked quietly._

_He shook his head. "Not yet. He seems rather… delirious."_

_Heinrich nodded slowly and looked back at the ground. The three of them kicked at the carpet in the hallway idly until a shriek was heard from inside their father's room._

_Mother was there, weeping over Father's lifeless body. Emile knelt beside her and gently pulled her into an embrace while Ernst and Heinrich stood by the door._

_"Maybe he didn't want you to come back," Heinrich remarked quietly._

_Ernst set his jaw, determined not to get upset. It had been taxing, for everyone insisted on bringing up the subject. "From what he said in the message," he said, moving so the doctor had room to get by, "I think he did."_

_"You know how Father is. What did he say to you, by the way?"_

_Ernst didn't answer as he thought of the words. They became louder each time he repeated them in his mind. He didn't have to think about it much, but the more he did, the more he knew exactly where his heart was, and it wasn't here._

* * *

_Within the hour, he tore out of the house. He rode without stopping: his horse collapsed half a mile from the cabin. The poor mare wasn't used to such rugged terrain as Zethos was. She was made for light riding, not to be sturdy for long trips. Ernst forced her to drink, got her to her feet, set her loose and continued the rest of the way on foot._

_When the house finally came into view, he felt a strange jolt of disappointment. Without realizing it, he'd been expecting to see smoke coming from the chimney, light in the windows; maybe catch a glimpse of Esmé. She'd be singing and smile when she caught him looking at her._

_But the house was dark. No smoke from the chimney; the only light was from the fading moon and the stars._

"_No," he said aloud._

_He walked past the _vardo_; its green and gold colors seemed ugly and garish in this light. Thought it had really been used as a storage space, Ernst had started to find it slightly charming against the side of the house. Now it looked abandoned and threatening. Zethos' tether just next to it was empty. He double-checked the stable just to be sure, but the horse was gone._

_He opened the door and was greeted by a silence, and a heavy almost tangible darkness. He walked through the house, hoping with every turn that she would be just around the corner. When he entered their small bedroom, a small, unbidden hope, perhaps out of routine, burrowed itself in his heart that he'd find her sleeping peacefully. He'd step too loudly and make the floor creak, as he often did. She would stretch, smile up at him, and bid him good morning._

_But she wasn't there. No, the bed was made up perfectly with the brightly colored quilt that she had sewn neatly spread out over the top. He reached out and touched the frayed edges lightly. It had been made out of several of her old skirts. Without thinking, he lifted the side she had always favored to his face and inhaled, hoping to catch some trace of her. Indeed, he smelled the sweet scent of cherries._

_And then he remembered. He ran from the bedroom and straight out of the house. His feet ached and screamed with every step but he forced himself to ignore it until he reached the cherry grove._

_And owl called. The silhouettes of the trees against the pink sky loomed overhead, fading as the sun continued to rise. The trees were lined perfectly in a row, perfectly still, most laden with fruit, a few still holding blossoms. He smelled the blossoms but not _her_._

_She was gone._

_He checked all the usual places – and the unusual – but she had left. Just as he'd told her to do._

_"Esmeralda!" he shouted. The name echoed off the trees and bounced back to him._

_He called her name wearily, but the only answer was from the birds. As he trudged back to the cabin, he heard a rapid pecking, and looked up to see a woodpecker; its green body and scarlet head pecking at the tree outside of the kitchen window. It looked down at him and called. He glared at it._

_He staggered back inside not even bothering to close the door behind him. He collapsed in a chair – her favorite - buried his face in his hands, and without his permission, tears began to stream down his cheeks. He didn't deserve it a bit, but the sobs became uncontrollable. He wept for Esmé and their child and his foolish, selfish decisions and that stupid woodpecker that would not stop. He wept that he would never meet their son; that the boy would grow up fatherless. He wept at the thought of Esmé finding comfort in someone else's arms. He hated that he had become exactly what his father wanted to be: the exact opposite of what he himself wanted. He had never felt so overwhelmed or foolish in his life._

_. . ._

_Time passed; how much, Ernst wasn't sure. But he couldn't bring himself to move. He had no desire to leave. He sat there, in her chair, miserable as the sun rose and illuminated the small house. Everything was in order, just as it was when he had left. Though he did notice the table was set for two, something Esmé must have done in anticipation of his return._

_It was Heinrich that had found him long after the sun had come up. Ernst didn't feel surprised when he saw him pull up on a horse. He was, after all, the only other person that knew where the cabin was._

_Ernst sat in the chair motionless even as his brother approached. His eyes and head hurt; he felt ill and perhaps a little bit stunned. His throat felt like he had eaten glass and his heart ached. _

_"Ernst?" Heinrich called softly._

_He turned away from him, not wanting to be seen like this his little brother of all people._

_Heinrich didn't take the hint, for he knelt down beside the chair and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Mother sent me."_

_He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself. Heinrich pulled him into a stiff hug. "It's all right to be upset, you know."_

_He almost laughed at the words coming from his baby brother's mouth and appreciated the embrace._

_But Heinrich didn't seem to mind. He held his brother's gaze and asked, "Is there anything I can do?" _

_He thought for a moment. There was nothing he could ask of Heinrich that could possibly be done. It was his entire fault, after all; none of this responsibility fell on Heinrich. "I wish I knew if she was all right."_

_"She's so smart, Ernst! She's lived on the road her whole life, right? And maybe she found more gypsies."_

_Ernst nodded, appreciative of Heinrich's words but nothing would make him feel better._

_"The world isn't as big as you think, brother. Maybe you'll meet her again someday. I hope you do."_

_Ernst pushed the thought from his mind: he had just let her go; he couldn't the torturous thought of hope right now._

_"Let's go home, yes?"_

_Ernst sighed. "Yes, let's go."_

_He rose from the chair as Count Volger. Heinrich had brought a spare horse and Volger took it back home. Heinrich had stopped on the way back, an errand for their mother and had told him he'd catch up. When he returned home and saw that Heinrich wasn't back, he asked his mother where she had sent him. _

_She had told Heinrich of no errand, and she didn't have any idea where he was._

_It was the last time Volger ever saw his youngest brother._

* * *

"Hello! I'm Wolfgang."

Volger found himself quite unable to move as the young man called Wolfgang smiled and extended his hand.

Had the Count known who was coming into his room, he might have been surprised. But he didn't feel surprised at all. Perhaps he was shell-shocked and that simply robbed him of any extreme emotion, but he didn't feel much of anything. The only thing that he was certain of was the inability to move. He wanted to and he meant to, but his body wouldn't allow him.

The Count cleared his throat, crossed and then uncrossed his ankles; nervous habits that he rarely fell into. Dukes, princes, and even the kaiser he had met and spoken to, but Count Volger found himself fidgeting and anxious in the presence of a common sailor.

But when his eyes met those of said sailor, he felt a peculiar warmth in his chest and had a strong feeling that this wasn't just _anyone_.

Of course there had been countless false alarms, when the Count catch a glance of a child walking down he street. Those were terrible: it made his heart race and he'd feel a quick sensation of hopefulness, only to have it dashed away when the person turned around. He'd scan the crowd whenever he saw a caravan of gypsies, no matter where he was, always looking for someone he;d never met. While he had no idea what their son looked like, he always thought that he'd be look like a Volger. Tall, lean, fair. It was difficult imagining a male version of Esmé, after all.

However, this person carried absolutely none of the Volger family traits from what he could see, save for his height. He was tall; tall enough that he craned his neck down as he entered the room out of fear of scraping his head against the ceiling. His hair was long, dark; his complexion tanned by the sun. His eyes were bright and golden; _familiar_.

The young man called Wolfgang cleared his throat and cocked his head a bit to the side quizzically.

"Hello! I'm Wolfgang," he repeated cheerfully as he extended his hand towards the Count once again. "I believe we met the other night. Well, sort of."

The Count forced the thoughts out of his mind and far away and focused on the situation in front of him. He straightened up and regained his composure. He cleared his throat. "Hello."

Whenever Volger would catch a glimpse of someone that he thought might be his son and was filled with hope, soon followed the natural counterpart: doubt. It crept in slowly at first until his mind was filled; seeping with it. And then he would see the suspect's face and feel completely foolish. He had come to expect it, and wasn't the least bit fazed when he felt it trickle into his mind just then.

Amber eyes weren't that uncommon, were they? It could just be the lighting. And he worked on a ship: of course his skin was tanned by the sun and his hair unkempt. Esmeralda wasn't the only tan person in the world. And how did the Count know that his son looked like this?

Wolfgang looked expectantly at him, waiting for a response.

"Count Volger," he said, rising to introduce himself and shaking his hand. "Thank you for that, the other night. I do appreciate it."

Something moved out of the corner of his eye and he saw Alek standing next to the doorframe. He looked at the Count and then at the Wolfgang with wide eyes. Volger wondered for a moment why Alek was there and why he was hovering in the door, but that didn't matter at the moment.

Wolfgang smiled politely. "I'm glad to see you're doing well."

The Count blinked, just as he began to lose his train of thought, and forced himself to focus. "Yes, thank you."

"You work in the navigational room?" Wolfgang asked as his eyes drifted around the room.

"I do," Volger answered, and he was glad that Wolfgang was looking around the room because quite without his own consent, he found himself unable to stop staring at Wolfgang; studying him. He certainly didn't look twenty; he seemed much older. But that could have been the scruffy beard.

Wolfgang's yellow eyes stopped when the fell on the desk. "Where did you get that?" he asked, motioning to the necklace.

It was there, sitting just beside the Count's hand. He had been polishing the stone, turning it about in his hand.

Volger cleared his throat. "I... found it."

"I can't believe it!" Wolfgang exclaimed. Volger's eyes followed him as he picked it up. "I'd been looking everywhere for it, hadn't I, Alek?"

Alek must have left, for he didn't answer Wolfgang and was no longer in the room. Wolfgang didn't seem to mind, however, and hardly noticed as he proceeded to fasten the chain round his neck. "Thanks very much! I owe you a favor. I am glad you found it. You don't know how much trouble you may have saved me from," he added with a slight chuckle.

The Count raised an eyebrow at his boldness. Then again, Wolfgang probably wasn't raised as he was.

"Well," Wolfgang said after a moment of silence. "It was lovely meeting you officially. I hope to see you! And thank you again, really, for finding this."

And with that, he turned on his heel, whistling cheerfully, and began walking out of the room.

_Wolfgang! Wait just a moment. There's something I need to ask you._

The Count played the imaginary scene out in his mind. He could have easily stopped Wolfgang; he wasn't even to the door yet. Most of him wanted to stop him and tell him, but a small part of him didn't. Part of him didn't want to know.

"Wolfgang," he called, standing from the desk.

He stopped to look at him. "Yes?"

The Count had searched for twenty years; he had never really thought about what he was going to do once he found him.

"...Thank you for coming."

Wolfgang smiled at him. "Have a nice evening, Count."

Once the door was closed, Volger sank back into his seat. The doubt that followed hope was soon replaced by a slight feeling of regret. The Count was quite used to that, so he pushed the feeling away and conceded to go to bed.

* * *

He rolled over and rubbed his eyes. He let out a sigh.

_How can he breath like that?_ he thought to himself, glaring over at the Bauer-shaped lump that was snoring like a train.

Sleep had become a privilege, but not just because of Bauer. He rolled over again, away from the noise.

Volger was completely mistaken all together. It had happened countless times, after all.

He ran through the checklist for the thousandth time, but he didn't have to. Something in his heart was tugging at him; pestering him about it.

But really: what was he going to say?

He growled at Bauer, whose breathing seemed to only get louder. Really, did he have a lung problem?

The Count tore the sheets away and set both feet on the floor.


	26. Paternal

**Contrary to popular belief, Polaris is not actually the brightest star in the sky. It ranks 50th in brightness with Sirius (it's name comes from the Greek word for scorching) being 1st! For my friends in the Northern Hempisphere, you can find it by drawing a line through Orion's belt and to the left. :D**

**_Katasterismoi_ (meaning "placings among the stars") is kind of weird to explain, but from what I can understand, it's basically the Greek myths and legends that surround the constellations.**

**I hope that everyone enjoyed the last chapter! Thank you to those that reviewed: Darth raven reborn, Dont'lookatme, Darth raven reborn, Sassysplash, Da_Undertoad, and Jett-Wolfe98! And if by chance there's anyone else reading this that hasn't commented, I would LOVE to hear from you! :)**

**Jett-Wolfe98 reviewed the last chapter in a PM. :)**

**Don'tlookatme: Aaaahhhh Volger! You tell him! Don't worry: someone's going to figure it out sooner than later! Thank YOU for the comment on my story. :)**

**Da_Undertoad: I think Volger's in denial. ;) Maybe because he's spent all this time looking for him, and he doesn't know what he's going to do once he finds him! Thanks for the review; great to hear from you! :D**

**Sassysplash: Oh my goodness, thank you! You are so sweet! :) Thank you for the review! :D**

**All original characters and plotline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

Volger stepped onto the dark deck. It was quiet; much quieter than his room. The only sound was the gentle splash of the waves hitting the hull and the low chatter of the few crewmen on watch. He thought for a moment that he heard the _thump!_ and _clank!_ of a sword, but there was no swordsman in sight.

As he continued across the deck, he came upon a bedraggled wooden dummy that one might use to practice fencing with, and this one certainly looked like it had been. It had no face and was only a torso with arms; covered with nicks and cut marks. It was actually well-constructed for something so simple: its arms were jointed, which mean that they moved when hit. It reminded the count of a skeleton and it might have been a bit unsettling to look at if its body wasn't slightly droopy, which gave it a pathetic, bedraggled look.

"Hullo, Count!" said Wolfgang's voice. Volger had to look around for a moment until he spotted him standing on the railing. He must have been the one fencing, for there was holding a sword in his hand. "Lovely night, isn't it?"

Volger glanced up at the dark sky. The sun had long since disappeared; the only light came from the spattering of stars above them. The moon appeared to be covered by a piece of cloud and was dimmed, but yes, Count Volger did suppose the weather was agreeable. It was certainly better than it was the night of the storm. "I suppose it is."

"Trouble sleeping?"

"A bit," he admitted, though he wasn't about to confess the cause of it.

"Me, too. And there are far too many stars out to be sleeping," said Wolfgang, his back to the Count. He held onto the ropes for support and pointed with his sword towards the horizon. "Polaris! There, can you see it?"

Volger looked in the direction the blade was pointing and saw the light twinkling in the distance. "The North Star."

Wolfgang looked down at him. "Are you a sailor in addition to being a Count?"

The Count shook his head. "No, not at all. I just happen to know a bit about the sky."

"Oh! Do you enjoy astronomy, then?"

Volger walked over to the railing, his gaze up at the stars. "To an extent. ...Someone I knew a long time ago taught me quite a lot of the mythologies behind the constellations. _Katasterismoi_, I believe it is called."

Wolfgang gave him a quizzical look. "Are you Greek?"

"No, but my... friend was."

"You probably listened much better than I did," Wolfgang said as he dropped back down to the deck, landing with a _thump!._ "I was always trying to escape lessons, much to my mother's chagrin."

Volger felt an involuntary prickle in his chest. "Your mother?"

"She taught me all about the _katasterismoi,_" Wolfgang said as he poised himself to resume his attack on the dummy. "Every constellation, every star," he continued. "Though I appreciate it much more now than I did then. I was always was much more interested in fencing than learning about the sky. I'd take swords over stars any day back then." He lunged at his wooden opponent.

Volger held his hands behind his back and observed, as he did often with Alek. Wolfgang was fast and strong with his arm; impressively so. But he struck too hard, and the unnecessary force was going to drain him quickly. That and his footwork were a bit messy, too.

"Did your mother teach you fencing as well?" After he said it, Volger realized that it probably sounded quite insulting, but luckily Wolfgang laughed.

"Of course not! I'm self-taught, I'm afraid. Is it that terrible?"

The Count circled him slowly. "Keep your weight in your back heel." He had said it a thousand times at least to Alek when he was first learning; it was an easy yet unwise habit to fall into, and even easier to do if you didn't have an instructor constantly reminding you.

Wolfgang glanced at Volger and began doing just as he said; beautifully so. "You should keep your fist tight," the Count added, noticing that Wolfgang had a tendency to move his hand on the handle quite a lot.

Wolfgang continued lunging as he adjusted his grip. "You fence as well, I take it?"

"I've been practicing my whole life, actually," Volger said, brushing the hilt of his sword. "I was Alek's instructor for quite some time."

Wolfgang stopped and looked at him. "Really? Maybe you could help me."

Volger scoffed at the idea, but Wolfgang didn't move. "Come on, you can't be any worse than I am," he said. "I haven't practiced a bit since we left Japan. It's shameful, really."

He looked at the Count, a familiar twinkle of mischief in his eye. "Or maybe you are worse than me, though I really don't see how that's possible, and you don't want it to be shown."

There was a particular trait in the Volger family (the boys, especially); something one might refer to as a competitive streak. Oh, it ran in other families; the Count had seen it plenty of times in others, even Alek once in a while and Deryn especially. But he had never seen in so strong as in his own family. He and his brother, Emile, had once challenged each other to a tree climbing contest and didn't stop until Mother had literally dragged them both inside after Emile had broken his arm and the two of them had run through stinging nettles. It remained a sensitive issue in the family; he and Emile had never resolved just who the rightful winner was.

But the point was that never, not once, had Count Volger said no to a challenge and he wasn't about to start, especially when it was from a common sailor. He didn't care whose son he was; even if it was his own he would not give merit to the young man's outrageous accusations.

The Count drew his sword and pressed the blade against Wolfgang's, taking note of the workmanship. "Where did you get this?" he asked, following the delicate engraving with his eyes. It was almost an Arabian style, with the tip curved ever so slightly, but the basket guard was far too intricate. It reminded the Count of candy floss that was spun out of soft gold; all molded into a cage shape that covered Wolfgang's hand.

Without preamble, Wolfgang lunged at him. It caught the Count only slightly off-guard, as he made it a policy to always mind his opponent, and he riposted it easily with a flick of his wrist.

"It was my grandfather's," Wolfgang answered, advance-lunging again. "My grandmother gave it to me before she died."

"It's beautiful," Volger remarked, eyeing the sword as Wolfgang brought it down against his own blade. "You certainly use it well."

Wolfgang smiled, pleased with the comment. "Thank you."

"Are you left or right-handed?" he asked casually.

Wolfgang banged his sword down on Volger's and the blades slid together, the metal-on-metal making an unpleasant _screech_. "Both!"

"Very good," Count Volger noted. "Your footwork, however," he continued easily, keeping one arm behind his back, "could use a bit of tightening."

And with that, he stepped to the side just as Wolfgang lunged forward, confusing him just long enough to jump behind him and hold the blade to Wolfgang's back. It was a modified appel, one of his own strategies. Perfectly fair, though he did acknowledge it was perfectly irritating.

Wolfgang turned around carefully, eyeing the tip of the Volger's sword. It was a perfectly safe distance from him and of course Volger wouldn't stab him with it, but he looked very, very wary.

"That's not fair!" he said, looking up at the Count, his eyes wide. "You cheated!"

Volger lowered his blade at the accusation. "That's not cheating-"

And then Wolfgang backed up and hit Volger's sword away with great energy, the sounds of their swords reverberating through the air. He grinned mischievously. "Of course you weren't!" They stepped in tandem around the mast. "I really didn't think you'd fall for that. Surely Alek must have tried the same thing once or twice?"

"He never dared to," Volger grumbled. No one, especially Alek, had ever thought of accusing Volger of cheating. If there was one thing he hated, it was being called a liar. He was certainly annoyed, but found himself not put off at all, surprisingly.

Wolfgang chuckled. "I would have."

Volger lunged at him and they moved around the dark deck, dodging the few sailors that had stopped to watch and other various obstacles. Wolfgang must have had an incredibly strong competitive streak as well, for both of them refused to give the other the upper hand. Volger could tell that Wolfgang hadn't had much practice preserving his strength for long matches, for he was stepping too hard and flinging Volger's saber away with more force than necessary: telltale signs of impending exhaustion.

Wolfgang had started out very energetic, however, and Volger could see that he was glad to have someone to practice with. He was certainly a skilled swordsman, and Volger might have even called it a fair match if Wolfgang had remembered to hold his sword tight instead of constantly adjusting his grip on it. He must have completely forgotten, for when Volger struck, Wolfgang's sword flew out of his hand and stuck into the mast.

They both stopped and looked at the quivering sword. Wolfgang looked at the sword, then at Volger. He made to pull it out, but it didn't budge. "I don't think it's coming out anytime soon," he panted as he tried to yank the sword out. His pulling and tugging became half-hearted as he caught his breath.

Volger felt tired himself, and though he hated to admit it, his body was not as spry as it used to be. But in spite of this, he wasn't ready to stop. Count Volger was an excellent winner, but he was not good at losing at things. "Don't you have an extra sword?"

Wolfgang shook his head negatively, braced one foot to the mast, and pulled with all his might. The sword gave way and he went staggering backwards. If Volger wasn't there to break his stop, he might have gone right over the railing and into the water.

"Ha!" he said, bouncing back and poising himself again. "You're not going to beat me that easily!"

Without any effort at all, Volger hit the sword again out of Wolfgang's hand. It flew through the air and landed on the deck. He was clearly exhausted.

Though he may have been competitive, the Count only participated in fair fights. He frowned. "Are you sure you'd like to continue?"

Wolfgang was quiet for a minute and he sighed. "I'd better stop now before I embarrass myself any further. Well done, Count," he said as he caught his breath.

Wolfgang did look quite tired, and Volger knew it probably wouldn't be beneficial to either of them to completely exhaust themselves. "Well done," he said, conceding.

"Thank you," he said, tossing the sword next to the dummy. It landed with a loud, metallic _clunk!_. "I think that's made up for all of the practice I missed." He rubbed his shoulder a bit and grimaced as he plopped down heavily onto a barrel.

Volger could remember with no fondness when he first began fencing and how incredibly sore he often was. He sat down on a barrel beside Wolfgang, taking a moment to catch his own breath. Whether or not he chose to admit it, he was getting older and things like fencing weren't as easy as they once were.

"That's what I get for not stretching." Wolfgang moved his shoulder again and winced. "I wish I had something warm," he muttered.

"You should put something cold on it," Volger said almost automatically.

"What?" Wolfgang said.

"Heat increases inflammation," he said quietly, though he didn't know why he cared. "Cold will make it feel better. Try ice."

"I will, thanks very much," Wolfgang said, rotating his neck. "You were quite a fight, I must say."

"Well, I have been practicing all of my life," he said. "But thank you." Volger could feel his heart slow down and steady itself. He hadn't moved like that in years: he was going to be stiff tomorrow.

Wolfgang smiled weakly in acknowledgement and was silent until he caught his breath. "Forgive me for saying so, but there's something about this..." His expression became thoughtful and he moved his hands as though he was trying to think of the proper word.

"I'm sorry?" Volger said when he didn't finish the sentence.

Wolfgang moved his hands again. "There's just something about this that seems very..."

"Paternal!" shouted a voice from somewhere on the deck.

"What was that?" Wolfgang said, looking to where the sound came from. From the darkness emerged the wretched beast called Bovril, looking unreasonably proud of itself. It padded up to Wolfgang and sat just at his feet.

"Oh, it's just you," he said, chuckling while he bent down and stroked its head. "Bovril, right?"

"Paternal!" the creature repeated, this time with more gusto.

Wolfgang looked amused. "Why are you saying that, you silly thing?"

"It's just babbling," Volger answered quickly, not amused in the least. Both the creature and Wolfgang looked at him. He cleared his throat. "Paid it no mind. Aleksandar says it repeats bits of conversation; it must have heard that word sometime today."

"Oh," Wolfgang said softly. "It's strange what the Darwinists can do, isn't it? Absolutely incredible that they can create a creature that talks; actually talks!"

The Count shooed the creature away with his foot lest it blurt out something else that was none of its business. "Parrots can do the same thing, and they weren't created by any Darwinist."

Wolfgang laughed. "Fair enough! I take it you aren't one, then?"

"A parrot?"

"A Darwinist."

"Absolutely not. I was raised a Clanker and will live the rest of my life as one."

"You're in rather a strange place, then."

"Pardon?"

"Here," Wolfgang said, motioning to the mast and sails and ship. "Captain Dakkar is a staunch Darwinist, as is most of the crew. And aren't Deryn and Alek as well?"

"Ah," Count Volger answered quietly. "Well... I didn't come aboard for that particular reason."

"I understand. Forgive me; I've spoken out of turn," said Wolfgang. "I should know better: I have my own reasons as well for coming aboard."

Volger didn't say anything, though he couldn't help but be a little curious as to what those reason were.

"So, you're a Clanker that's practiced fencing all his life. You must have had a good teacher, and seeing as you come from a noble family that would make sense."

Volger watched the young man. It was almost as though gears were turning in his mind as he thought of what he was going to say.

"You've got an accent, though I'm not sure I'm entirely familiar with it. I'm going to guess that you hail from... Germany?"

The Count felt a nervous fluttering in the pit of his stomach, though he didn't know why. It was a simple question, one anyone making polite conversation would ask. Polite conversation; that's all it was. "Close: Austria."

Wolfgang's face lit up. "I was born in Germany, just over the border!"

"You were?" Volger said quietly.

"Yes! Though I haven't been there since. Where in Austria?"

Volger nodded. "Vienna."

"I think I was born in the forest somewhere. I was born in a Clanker country, but I don't call myself one as you do."

Volger felt a tinge of disappointment. "Are you a Darwinist, then?"

Wolfgang shook his head. "Not much of a Darwinist either; I'm terrible with allegiances." He chuckled to himself softly.

"That's very interesting," the Count said, trying desperately not to think the thoughts racing through his mind. He had looked far and wide for Esmé, assuming that she had fled, wanting to get as far away from him as possible. He never thought that she might not have left Austria at all.

"_Familiar_!" Wolfgang said suddenly, jumping up. "There's something about you, Count Volger, that seems familiar."

"Familiar?" the Count repeated.

Wolfgang sat back down. "What I was trying to say earlier! I feel almost as though we've fenced together in the past. We haven't met before, have we?"

Volger answered quickly. "No. Except for last night."

"Hmm. I'm probably just imagining things," Wolfgang said. Volger jumped a bit when he clapped a hand onto his shoulder. He smiled at the Count. "But I think we have more in common than you might think, you and I."

Volger felt his throat go dry and he felt a strange feeling as he averted his eyes from Wolfgang's to the sea. Very faint pink was spread in a thin line just over the horizon. It was quiet; the kind of quiet that lingers just before something important happens.

"Dawn will be here soon!" Wolfgang yawned lazily. "And I think there may be sleep in my near future. Thanks for tiring me out," he said, smiling brightly. "Sleep well!"


	27. Sneaking

**Super-special thank you to: Cinnamon C, Elliestone, Don'tlookatme, Da_Undertoad_51, polarbear257, Zaivex, Jett-Wolfe98, and Darth revan reborn! :)**

**Da_Undertoad_51: Thank you for reviewing! :) And thanks for pointing out that error; you were right!**

**Don'tlookatme: :D Thank you SO much! :D Volger IS being rotten; you should give him a piece of your mind! And I'm sorry I didn't get this done in time for your birthday, but happy *late* birthday! And since you asked about what Deryn and Alek are up to, this chapter is just for you. :)**

**This chapter might not make very much sense right now, but I promise it will! :D**

**All original characters and plotline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

_I can't believe I'm doing this_, Alek thought to himself.

Deryn was the one that had insisted on him sneaking about to retrieve the sketch he had tried to describe to her - it was at the point now where Alek almost wished that he hadn't said anything to begin with. He knew and accepted that he was neither good at sneaking about nor did he particularly enjoy it. It seemed dishonest and he did suggest that they simply ask the Captain about it upfront, but Deryn had shot him down, saying that the Captain didn't know that he had seen it in the first place and Alek would therefore be in more trouble rather than just looking at it when the Captain wasn't there.

Alek sighed. He stood opposite the door to the Captain's study, waiting in a shadow for the way to be clear. Various crewmen were crossing the deck, carrying boxes and barrels and such. He had been waiting for probably longer than he should have; the Captain wasn't going to be at the helm forever. Alek couldn't hear what they were saying, but whatever it was must have been exciting, for the Captain was using great arm gestures and he looked very enthusiastic while Haamid appeared to be taking notes.

He was probably excited about the fog finally lifting and the sun pushing through the clouds. Most of the crew was; it meant that it was warmer and easier to see. Still, there was nothing to see but a flat horizon, moderately blue sky, and deep, dark sea.

Bovril shifted on his shoulder, its tiny, sharp paws pricking through his shirt, telling Alek to hurry up. "Yes, Bovril," he whispered, petting the loris' head to pacify it. If there was one thing it hated, it was standing idly. It kneaded its paws into Alek's shoulder again. He took a deep breath, walked to the door and went inside as casually as possible.

Captain Dakkar's study smelled of incense and earth.

Alek breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that he and Bovril were alone, save for the stump in the large containment tank bobbing around gently in the water. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling of paranoia that he was going to get caught. He was no good at sneaking and nor did he enjoy it, and being discovered always seemed to happen to him.

He shook his head and forced himself to focus: the quicker he accomplished what he was sent out to do, the quicker he could leave.

Alek stepped noiselessly across the soft, ornately patterned carpet towards the enormous window covering the back wall. Bovril tried to get down from his shoulder, but Alek held onto the loris for fear it would scamper off and knock something expensive over.

Shelves on the walls just next to the enormous desk were covered with small brass bells and polished statues. Each of them looked a bit odd; some with several arms, others with none at all. Some had frightening, angry expressions and others looked to be quite content. It was a most peculiar collection.

He stopped in front of the disorderly desk. It was covered it various papers; some were stacked high precariously, others were simply scattered about. He scanned the papers, catching quips and phrases here and there. From what he could tell, there was absolutely no method of organization whatsoever. Some of the small statues were being used as makeshift paperweights, holding down particularly fat stacks. Underneath a brass elephant (it was sitting cross-legged and had four human arms and only one tusk), Alek saw the headline: _BIOLOGICAL ACCIDENT STILL AT LARGE_. He read the first sentence and recognized it immediately; that was the article Captain Dakkar had read to him and Morgan a few days ago.

Thinking the sketch might be in the same pile, Alek set the elephant aside carefully and fingered through the papers. As he did so, he noticed something was pasted on the back of the article. He removed the paper and saw that it was indeed an article, but not an actual piece of newspaper: it was a clipping that had been pasted onto a regular sheet of paper. On the back was another clipping from a newspaper. The randomness of the headline made Alek pause.

_TESLA FAMILY TRAGEDY_

Tesla? He knew that name. Alek immediately flipped the paper over and read it.

"_Six year-old Vasilisa Tesla and her older brother, Dane, were killed this past Friday when thrown from a horse unexpectedly. Witnesses say that the horse was frightened purposely, and the person that did so (who remains unidentified), did so knowing it would throw the pair. Sources have not heard from the family to confirm."_

And that it was it. Alek flipped the paper over just to make sure the rest of it wasn't pasted someplace else, but there was no more. The article wasn't dated, but its yellow color and smudged ink led him to believe it was very old.

Did Nikola have siblings? Alek wasn't sure, and he had never asked. And despite him being quite mad, Alek couldn't imagine him murdering someone like _that_.

However, he didn't think he would actually use Goliath either.

But that name, Vasilisa; it sounded familiar. Was that the name Dmitri had been muttering over and over in Africa? That memory was a bit blurred for Alek; he had an awful headache during that time.

He read it through once more and set it back where he'd found it, thinking. As he did, a stray paper slipped off the desk and landed at his feet. He bent down to pick it up and saw a familiar pair of gray legs; this was the sketch he had been looking for. Finally, he was able to see what it looked like, and it wasn't at all what he had pieced together from the description in Deryn's notebook.

It took Alek a moment, but he deciphered the scrawled word at the top to say: _the Servant. It fit the description Deryn had in her notebook, though it looked nothing how Alek had imagined it. It was drawn from the side and the front; quite well, too._

It was much uglier than he imagined, for one thing. It looked beastly, but almost human at the same time in a very disturbing way. It had two large legs and arms with five webbed fingers and toes. Its head was absolutely enormous. It was large and round and on it was a pair of dark eyes, sitting just above its mouth. Its back hunched just behind its head, almost like a camel, so much so that from above the water its head and back looked almost like two large rocks. And instead of a tail, the creature had a dozen or so purplish tentacles. They were very thin; not like a kraken's but more like that of a jellyfish.

Alek realized now that he couldn't take it; especially since it could have been at the top of the pile of papers to begin with. That would be noticeable; incredibly so. He debated for a moment, and decided that memorizing it and leaving it there was the safest option.

As he placed it back carefully so as to not disturb the other papers, there was a loud, long _creeeeaaaaak!_ from the floor just behind the tank. Alek froze, fearing the worst. Slowly, he turned to look, but through the bubbles and the curved glass he couldn't see anything clearly. He walked slowly towards the tank and behind it, dreading what he might see.

He stepped quietly and saw only Bovril standing there, looking up at him quite innocently. Alek sighed; relieved.

"Bovril, what are you doing?" he said as he stooped down to collect the beastie.

And before Bovril could answer, the door opened.

Without even thinking, Alek dove back behind the containment tank, hoping desperately that the bubbles and glass would distort and disguise him. He held Bovril tightly in his arms to prevent the beast from greeting the person.

Whoever had entered had left the door open, for Alek could hear the noise from outside. He heard the soft thud of footsteps coming towards them, and then they stopped. Papers rustled and Alek held his breath. He was trying to scrape up some reasonable excuse for being in the Captain's office by himself without permission, but he was too nervous to think properly.

"Ah! Here it is!" said a voice. Alek thought it was Haamid, but he didn't dare look. He heard more footsteps going away from him and Bovril and after a few steps, the door shut and it was quite.

* * *

Alek quickly opened and shut the door to Deryn's room. He let out a relieved sigh. He and Bovril had scrambled from the Captain's study across the deck; he wasn't sure of the last time he had moved that fast.

"Deryn," he said, "I-"

He was cut off by Bovril who _shushed! _him harshly. The beast then padded up onto the bed and sat in Deryn's lap. Deryn was asleep; soundly.

Alek thought for a moment whether or not he ought to wake her. He'd feel terrible to, especially after what a rough night she'd had. She had told him it was nothing, of course, and that she just couldn't get comfortable, but the circles under her eyes and the way she winced every time she moved gave her away. Deryn was restless; terribly so. Alek wasn't sure if she had gotten sick again or not; Deryn refused to disclose any such details, claiming that the doctor was silly and she was fine. Still, Alek noticed that she didn't try to escape, and that was something that surprised him. She really must not have been feeling well.

He walked quietly over to the chair next to her bed he had brought in days ago. Not that he was worried about waking Deryn: during their honeymoon, she had slept through a train that had thundered through the city practically right outside of their window. He'd nearly had to yell to wake her up.

Alek looked at her. Her hair was completely wild and circles dark under her eyes, but she looked beautiful. He reached forward and gently pushed a stray lock out of her face and behind her ear. Deryn reacted by inhaling deeply, but didn't stir.

He plopped down into the chair and thought.

There was something that was bothering Alek; a piece that didn't fit. No; it was more like an extra piece. Why would the Captain attach a newspaper clipping telling about Nikola Tesla's sister's death to the article about the Servant?

Alek thought and he thought but he couldn't make sense of it. He began to take the information and bend it to fit, but he knew better than to make that mistake. The best solution was to bounce facts off of another person, a set of fresh ears, and see what they thought.

But that wasn't available at the moment, so he sufficed it by pulling out the notebook Doctor Barlow had given him before they'd left Japan.

"Right," Alek said to himself. "Where should I start?"

The loris crossed its paws and settled down, its eyes not leaving its master. "Beginning."

"That's a good a place as any," Alek said, and so he took his pencil and he began at the beginning.

Seeing Dmitri's signature on the bottom of the drawing; that was the first strange thing. Alek thus could conclude that the drawing was done by and the fabrication created by Dmitri. That would make sense: Dmitri was, from what he understood, and accomplished scientist and fabricator. And he seemed mad enough that he could create something as terrible as the creature that had been antagonizing them.

Alek wrote _Dmitri_ on one half of a page and _Tesla_ on the other. He circled them both, and where the circles overlapped he meant to write their similarities.

They were both scientists, he supposed, though not really in the same genre of science. Dmitri was Russian and Tesla was Serbian, so they didn't share the same heritage.

He nibbled on the end of the pencil, a bad habit he'd never managed to kick. He heard a sound and looked up to see Bovril stretch.

"Never found the body," it muttered, closing its eyes and curling up.

"Never found whose body?" Alek repeated.

"_Dexteram Deus_."

Alek repeated the phrase. He had studied Latin for a long time when he was younger, and he knew exactly what the words meant. But that wasn't where he had heard it before. "The Right Hand of God?"

"Indeed," Bovril said, this time in a different lilt than its usual. It was imitating Alek or Deryn or Count Volger, but it sounded almost Russian.

It took Alek a moment to realize what the loris was saying.

"Do you mean Dmitri?" he said, almost laughing at the ridiculousness out his words. "He can't be alive, Bovril."

Bovril seemed to be asleep. Either that or it was ignoring Alek, for there was no reply.

"Even if he is alive, he couldn't be all the way out here," Alek said to himself anyways, though he didn't feel entirely convinced of the notion for some reason. Dmitri was an evil, evil person, and evil always seemed to find a way.

He rubbed his temples. Even if he entertained the idea that Dmitri was alive, he still couldn't understand the why that had anything to do with Nikola Tesla.

Alek made a mental list of all of the information he had. No matter how much he doubted it, he kept coming back the idea that Dmitri could be alive. And if he was, Alek supposed he would want to go and recapture his runaway fabrication, especially after Captain Dakkar said how valuable it was. Even the king of England was after it; Dmitri must have known that.

Alek flipped through the notebook Doctor Barlow had given him before they'd left. It was almost empty, save for the few journal entries and notes he'd made about their journey. It was nothing particularly exciting; just a log of what had happened thus far.

And then he thought for a moment. Doctor Barlow had given he and Deryn each a notebook to take notes about each creature the encountered. They hadn't gotten on land yet, but neither of them had been asked to document anything about the stump. Deryn was ill, of course, but being the most experienced of the two, she would be the one to ask. Still, the Captain knew she was ill and Alek wasn't, but he hadn't mentioned anything to him either.

Alek glance over at Deryn's sleeping form and rather suddenly felt instinctually protective, and he wasn't entirely sure why.

The klaxon on the deck rang loudly. Alek checked his watch and realized that it was nearly dinnertime and poor Morgan was on his own down in the galley. He cursed himself inwardly for losing track of time.

The loud bell from outside had no effect on Deryn whatsoever, so Alek conceded to take the small notebook and stuff it under her pillow in case the doctor came in before she woke up, but leaving it partially exposed so she'd find it. All not without pressing a kiss to her warm forehead, of course.

He made for the door quickly and just as he opened it he heard someone say something.

"What was that?" he said, looking back.

Bovril was sitting up and looking at him dazedly. The creature turned around and lay back down, settling into a tight ball. Bovril often muttered things that had no meaning to itself, so Alek thought nothing of the action and continued on his way to the galley.

"Baited and set."


	28. Twenty Years

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**:)**

"I daresay you're in a good mood, Volger," called Bauer from his bunk. He was taking a break reading a book while the Count worked on updating his notebook.

Volger hadn't even noticed that he'd been humming to himself. "I suppose am," he answered quietly.

Bauer turned back to his book, amused smile on his face. "Fair enough. The whole crew seems to be in high spirits."

And rightfully so: the sun was shining, the air was clear, and the fog had lifted; not just the one that had been looming around the ship for days.

For the first time in a long time, Volger felt that he was just on the cusp of being sincerely _happy._

It had been three days since he had officially met Wolfgang, though it felt like they had known each other for much longer. Volger supposed that he had technically, but that wasn't why.

The only person he had ever really be close with outside of his family was Franz. Now that he was gone as were his brothers, Volger never thought he'd really have a friend again. True, he and Bauer got on well, but most of that was entirely work-related.

Wolfgang proved very friendly (a trait he didn't inherit from his father) and decided to sit next to the Count at dinner. He was very smart and sociable; Volger found it easy and even enjoyable to discuss everything from politics to sailing knots, the latter of which he had little knowledge in. The Count found that when he was with Wolfgang, talking was easy and effortless. He wouldn't call it being close, not quite yet, but he and Wolfgang get along very well he thought.

The Count found himself beginning to look forward to sitting next to Wolfgang at dinner each night, assuming they didn't reach land anytime soon and their schedule wasn't disrupted. He also found himself quite all right with the idea of not landing anytime soon, for he actually _enjoyed_ spending time with him.

There were two thoughts that were very predominant, constantly pushing themselves into his mind. The first was the one he was absolutely certain of: he had found his son. It was Wolfgang; there was no way it couldn't be. His tendencies and behaviors were familiar to Volger; so was his laugh, his looks, everything.

The second thought was one that Volger wasn't entirely certain about, and that was if he confessed Wolfgang the truth, whether or not his son would loathe him and never speak to him again. He went back and forth constantly, deciding that Wolfgang, with such a mild temperament, couldn't possibly say anything cruel or hateful and would be glad to know.

And then sometimes he wondered, even became nervous, that Wolfgang might have a Volger temper. If he did, there was almost no way Wolfgang would accept him.

Wolfgang was very intelligent, and more than once had he come closer to the truth than Volger felt comfortable with.

You see, Volger was afraid that if Wolfgang knew who he really was, how he had abandoned him and his mother at the worst time possible, Wolfgang would want nothing to do with him. And the way things were now, with him and Wolfgang being almost friends, Volger was nervous he'd ruin it and everything he'd accomplished the last twenty years would be a complete waste. Failure was something he'd constantly struggled with accepting in the past, and it was no different now.

He was a Count, for goodness' sake! A friend and advisor of the late Archduke of Austria-Hungary, a member of the Hapsburg Guard! If he failed now, he'd be no different than any other man, any other commoner. Succeeding was what set him apart from all of those people; that gave him an air of superiority.

Volger rolled his eyes at himself. "I think like my father," he muttered.

That was something he swore to himself he'd never become, no matter how high his rank was or his salary, so he forced himself to stop and thought of nautical equations and miles instead.

He'd wait to tell Wolfgang. There was no harm in being a little over-prepared, was there? Besides, whatever the outcome, Volger had a feeling it would make things terribly awkward aboard the ship.

* * *

When he arrived to bring her dinner, Alek discovered Deryn in bed not asleep, as he had assumed she would be, but very much awake and surrounded by coils of nautical line. There was a pile on the bed all around her that went down onto the floor and was arranged into several makeshift piles. Bovril was perched on the nightstand supervising the activity.

"Hello," Alek said to both of them as he entered the room with the tray; it was heavy with water and soup and bread. Bovril slithered onto the bed and next to its mistress.

"Hi, love," Deryn said absentmindedly without looking up at him. She was working on a large knot with some sort of thick needle, and she was very concentrated in doing so.

Her concentration was interrupted, however, when Alek leaned down to kiss her forehead. "You brought dinner," she grinned as her eyes drifted to the tray.

"Are you hungry?"

"Aye, of course," Deryn answered, piling up the rope on the other side of the bed and out of the way.

Alek slid the tray into her lap once there was room and sat down on the edge of the bed once she was settled. "What are you up to?" he asked, picking up a bit of rope.

"Oh, it got pure dead boring in here," she answered as she buttered a piece of bread. "So I asked Wolfgang to bring me something to do. He did."

"So I see," Alek said, looking around the room at the miniature mountains of white, braided coils.

"Did you make this?" Deryn asked as she took a spoonful of soup.

Alek nodded. "Is it all right?"

"Mmm," she answered through a mouthful. "It's lovely. I know I said it before, but I'm seriously considering letting you cook once we get home."

Alek chuckled at her and slid his free hand into hers.

He ran his thumb over her knuckles and bumped the stone of her engagement ring. They had gotten married immediately after he'd given it to her, and while he felt that they should have been traditional and gotten her a proper wedding band, she had insisted that this one would be more than fine. He held her hand in his and examined it. He had been a little surprised when he had first given it to her all those years ago that she actually seemed to like it. Even he thought it was a bit loud and very overstated, but Alek supposed (with great fondness) it suited Deryn's personality. It had been his mother's, given to her by his father, and very special to him, as was Deryn.

"Can I have my hand back?" Deryn said, breaking him from his train of thought.

"Oh, sorry," Alek answered.

Deryn gave him a bemused look as she used the hand he'd been holding to lift the glass of water. "No milk today?"

"No, I'm afraid we've been out for a little while. Morgan thought we had more, but it seems to have disappeared."

"Odd," she commented, though she didn't seem at all to mind.

"How are you feeling, by the way?" Alek added as casually as he could. It had been a touchy subject the past few days, but he wasn't sure why. Every time he asked, she became very cross and wished to switch the subject to nothing else, or stop talking all together.

She frowned and swallowed the food in her mouth. "I'm fine," she said flatly.

"Are you sure?" he said quietly, sincerely wanting to know and not set off her temper.

"Yes."

Now he frowned. "Then why aren't you up in the rigging?"

Deryn gave him a sharp look. "Because the doctor told me not to."

Alek knew for a fact that doctor's orders meant little to nothing to his wife and that if she deemed herself fine, she'd be up and about in a moment. But he thought it wiser not to push the subject.

"So this notebook I assume you've left for me," Deryn said as she reached to the nightstand. She tugged it free from underneath an empty glass. "When were you here?"

Alek had nearly forgotten that he had left it. The entire day he'd been looking over his shoulder, paranoid and almost certain he was going to be thrown into the sea for rifling through the Captain's personal documents. "Earlier this morning."

"You could have woken me up, daftie."

"I didn't want to bother you."

"I wouldn't have minded if I knew you had this."

Alek shifted closer, so he was sitting next to and slightly behind her, looking down at the notes he had scrawled. "It's a bit jumbled, I'm afraid. I don't suppose any of it makes sense to you?"

Deryn relaxed with him behind her, leaning back and resting her shoulder to his chest. "Not especially. But what did the sketch look like?"

Alek described to her in as accurate detail as he could remember, and as he did, Deryn drew what she heard. The finished product wasn't quite what he had seen, but after a few corrections here and there, they had almost an exact replica.

Deryn analyzed the picture in her lap. "Nope. Never seen anything like it."

And then a knock came at the door and Alek reluctantly rose to get it and found Wolfgang on the other side. He looked like his usual self, though there seemed to be something slightly different. He looked a bit tired, but it was something else... Almost a faraway look, like he was thinking.

"Hullo, Alek!" he said cheerfully. "Is Deryn available?"

Alek moved aside and let Wolfgang in.

"How's it coming?" he asked, looking down at the piles of rope.

"It's coming," Deryn answered.

"Wonderful," he said. He reached into his pocket. "I brought you another marlinspike. This one's a bit smaller, if you should need it."

"Thanks," Deryn said, taking the oversized needle and tucking it under the covers. Alek watched her as she did it, and saw she was wearing trousers. He chuckled. Of course she was.

"How is everyone's day going?" Wolfgang continued, sliding into the chair adjacent to the bed.

"Fine," Deryn said plainly. "I've only gotten a bit of this rigging done, though. I've miles more to go."

Wolfgang waved his hand. "No need to rush! We have plenty of extra. How's it down in the galley, Alek?"

"It's going very well, thank you," Alek said politely, sitting next to Deryn. Bovril crawled into his lap, eyeing Wolfgang the entire time. "How are you?"

"I'm... All right," Wolfgang answered, then the distant look came into his eye again.

Bovril moved from Alek's lap and crawled cautiously towards Wolfgang, then became very shy when Wolfgang acknowledged and reached down to pet it and scampered to Deryn.

Wolfgang leaned back and placed his hands behind his head. "Alek, you grew up with Count Volger, right?"

Alek looked at Deryn, who gave him a wary look before answering. "I did. Why do you ask?"

Wolfgang said, "He doesn't have any children, does he?"

Deryn gave him another look, and before he could answer, Wolfgang continued. "Because he just seems so very familiar. Something about his voice... Does he have any daughters?"

"No, none to my knowledge," Alek answered quickly.

"Any sons?"

Alek knew it wasn't right to lie to Wolfgang, but he wasn't exactly sure that Volger would be happy if he told him the truth.

Before he could answer, Deryn let out a loud, "Ouch!" when Bovril's small paw tugged down sharply on her earlobe. "Barking spiders, beastie! What is it?"

"Is Bovril… talking to you?" Wolfgang asked, observing the loris as it poised itself on Deryn's shoulder and muttered something inaudible into her ear.

Deryn nodded. "Oh, aye. It does all the time."

"I thought it could only repeat things," said Wolfgang.

"Oh, it was like that in the beginning," she answered, prying the creature down from her shoulder and into her lap. "But it's learned since."

"What do you mean?" Wolfgang asked.

"It's perspicacious! It says words strategically. Stuff that's important to what's being talked about. Mostly silly things," she said scornfully as she rubbed her sore earlobe.

Wolfgang paused. "You mean… It can say something that adds to the conversation? And actually knows what it's saying?"

"Yes, exactly," said Alek. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing," Wolfgang said, looking at the creature; studying it. "It's just that it kept saying something the other night when I was with..." He didn't finish the sentence.

"Are you all right?" Alek asked, looking at him. He was paused, looking deep in thought.

Wolfgang looked at him, his brow crinkled. "Excuse for a moment. I'm sure I'll see you later, Alek. Sleep well, Deryn."

"Where are you going?" Deryn called.

"There's just something I've got to do."

He closed the door behind him and Deryn let out another sharp breath as Bovril tugged on her ear again.

"What is Bovril saying?" Alek asked.

She glared at the loris as she pulled it away. "Keeps muttering 'paternal' over and over. You're a right broken record today, beastie."

* * *

"Count Volger?" came a voice.

Volger turned and was startled to see Wolfgang standing in the doorway. It was s surprise, but Volger was still pleased to see him. "Hello, Wolfgang."

Wolfgang smiled at him warmly but didn't say anything in response; he just nodded in acknowledgement. "How are you today, Count?"

Volger smiled slightly back at him. "I'm well. How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you," he said. The Count began to put his writing aside (out of politeness, of course), but Wolfgang shook his head. "Oh, please don't mind me. I was just stopping by to say 'hello'."

"Very well, then," Volger said, taking up the pen once again, though he wouldn't have minded taking a break and talking to Wolfgang. He heard the young man cross the floor and stop at the window, humming to himself. The tune was familiar; Volger would know it anywhere.

_Esmé laughed and tried to wriggle away from Ernst (he knew she was ticklish on her side, and he ran his fingers up her waist knowing perfectly well how she would react), but he held her in place. "Are you going to sing to him every day until he's born?"_

_Ernst smiled up at her before pressing a kiss to her round belly. He had never enjoyed singing or even thought that he had a decent voice, but Esmé had told him that babies were more likely to bond with their parents if they were spoken to. And Ernst didn't think it was too early to start before their child was born. "Yes."_

_"What is that song, anyway? I don't recognize the tune."_

_"_Edelweiss. _My nurse used to sing it to me when I was little."_

_"Oh," she said softly. She ran a hand through his hair and then jumped a bit. "Oh!"_

_"What is it?" he asked quickly._

_"He's kicking me," she answered, wincing slightly._

_Ernst gently placed his hands on her stomach and smiled. It always brightened his day whenever he_ _felt _his_ baby, _their_ baby move._

_Esmé chuckled. "I don't think he wants you to stop."_

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the silver chain glimmer in the dimmer light. Wolfgang's shirt was unbuttoned at the top and Volger could see the roughly teadrop-shaped emerald resting against his bare chest. Volger found it a bit odd, seeing a man wear a necklace that had been made for a woman. Still, though, in some strange way it seemed to almost suit Wolfgang.

The young man must have noticed the Count staring at his chest, for he glanced down at his open shirt and back up at Volger. "It was my mother's, you know."

Volger met his eyes and tried to study his face, but his expression was unreadable. "Was it?"

Wolfgang nodded. "She told me that it was very, very special. If ever I was to lose it," he paused. "Well, let's just say she wouldn't be happy. I really am thankful that you found it."

Volger nodded at him. "You're welcome."

"It's beautiful, isn't it? I especially like the intricate wirework on the side."

"It's lovely," he responded, trying to remain absentminded.

"Just where did you say you found it? I've forgotten."

Something in Wolfgang's tone had changed, but Volger couldn't quite detect what it was. Suspicion? "It was snagged on something on the side of the hull."

"It must have been quite a labor retrieving it. However did you reach it?"

"I used my sword."

"Ah, I see. But why bother? If you hadn't seen it before, I wouldn't think you had any idea what it was. You didn't mistake it for a piece of seaweed?"

The Count narrowed his eyes. Was he being... mocked? "It was shiny."

Wolfgang nodded and was quiet for a moment. "She told me once who gave it to her. Can you guess?"

Volger shook his head negatively.

"My father gave it to her. It's the only thing I have of his."

He looked up at Wolfgang. He had sounded so cheerful moments before but now his face showed not a trace that any sort of happiness had ever been there. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I think there's something _you're _not telling me."

In fact, he didn't seem happy at all; he looked rather upset. When his eyes met they Count's, Volger took note of how expressive they were and saw extreme unhappiness.

The Count felt a sharp pain in his chest. He had been found out; there was no point in avoiding it now. "What do you mean?"

"You _know_ what. You lied to me!"

He could feel the strings of happiness he'd tied around his heart begin to unwind and dissolve faster than what he was comfortable with. His heart, unprotected, hammered in his chest loudly. Volger fell immediately into his best emotional defense tactic: denial. He'd always hated being called a liar about anything. "You never asked."

A hurt look came over Wolfgang. "Why didn't you tell me?" Wolfgang said in a voice hardly above a whisper. "For heaven's sake, you just practically admitted it!"

Volger froze. "Who told you?"

Disbelief. "No one told me! Why didn't _you_?"

The Count swallowed as he realized that lying about it wasn't going to do him any good now. "Wolfgang, I'm so sorry. Please forgive-"

Without even realizing it, he reached for the young man but Wolfgang jerked away, glowering at him. "Do you have any idea how _little_ that means to me? I thought you were my _friend_."

"Wolfgang," Volger said, trying to soften his tone but keep his voice controlled. The thought of it disgusted him: that was something his father would have done. Was that what he had turned into? "It was a very complicated situation. I never knew-"

"_Complicated_?" Wolfgang repeated incredulously. "Complicated is a putting together an engine without the instructions, Volger! It might have been difficult for you, but you didn't have to _abandon_ us!"

Volger swallowed. "I didn't-"

"How could you do that to my mother? To me?"

"Please don't think it was easy."

Wolfgang ignored him. "And you're a count!" he continued, pointing an accusatory finger at Volger. "You could have helped us but you didn't. You _chose_ not to."

"Wolfgang," he said. He could feel himself losing control of his emotions, and the thought was both uncomfortable and terrifying. He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to speak. It was unorchestrated, unrehearsed, but for heaven's sake: if he didn't say something now, it would be too late. "I don't ask that you understand my actions, and I don't expect you to forgive me. And I'm sure it doesn't mean much, but at the time I thought I was doing the right thing."

Wolfgang frowned and opened his mouth to say something but Volger kept talking.

"I realized immediately after it happened that it was the wrong thing, in fact, probably the worst thing I could have done to you and your mother. And I am sorry," he said, and he meant it. "If I could have done anything to change it, I assure you I would have."

Wolfgang didn't say anything for a moment but crossed his arms. "You could have looked for us," he spat.

"I did," Volger answered. "I never stopped. I promise."

Wolfgang ran a hand through his dark hair and chuckle wryly. "I can't believe this. You know, I used to imagine you; I thought about you all the time when I was younger."

The Count felt a prickle of guilt in his chest.

Wolfgang's voice wavered as he continued; he sounded... Overwhelmed. "I always used to pester my mother about you. She told me that you were a merchant that was far away helping people. I'd wait and wait and wait for you, but you never came."

"Wolfgang, please-"

"No!" the younger man shouted. "I thought you were a good person, Volger; I thought you were my friend! What kind of a man abandons his family?"

"I didn't want to," Volger said, finally snapping and losing his temper as well. "Do you really think I wanted to be apart from you? Your mother was the only person I ever loved! I have had to live with my choices for twenty years," he said, his voice almost breaking. It was the first and only time he had ever said that to anyone. Once he regained himself, he added, "Do not think that I don't regret my mistakes."

But Wolfgang misheard him. "So that's it, then? It was all a mistake? _I _was your mistake, born out of wedlock?" And with a touch of sarcasm generations of Volgers would have been proud of, "I can only imagine how embarrassing it must have been for you. Living in a mansion with such a terrible secret."

"Don't bother," he said sharply as he pulled the door open. "If all I am is a mistake to you, then please leave me alone. I wouldn't want to bother you anymore than I already have."

Before Volger could think of anything to say, Wolfgang slammed the door shut and stomped away.


	29. Untitled

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**********All original characters and plotline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**********:)**

Volger stood there, stock still, weighing his options.

He could go after Wolfgang, who was most likely irate beyond what was humanly possible, and try to talk to him. However, there was no guarantee he would listen.

Or he could sit back down and think about what just happened, like he had been doing for twenty years.

* * *

He found Wolfgang exactly where he thought he would be: on the deck, fencing.

Wolfgang lunged and advanced on the dummy without acknowledging Volger's presence. Volger made to turn on his heel and leave; he could see clearly that Wolfgang wasn't interested in hearing him plea his case, but he stopped. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _It's now or never; I can't draw this out any longer._

He cleared his throat but Wolfgang paid him no mind and continued lunging.

This was getting perfectly annoying, so Volger took out his own sword and just as Wolfgang brought his blade down upon the dummy, the Count's sword crossed his, stopping him.

Wolfgang glared at him as he slid his sword down the Count's; the metal grinding against metal made the most awful sound, like nails on a chalkboard. When it hit Volger's hand-guard, it stopped with a _clunk!_ and Wolfgang held his ground. His face was inches from Volger's, his breath heavy. He looked very determined and angry; eyes were wild with anger. Volger almost felt like he was looking in the mirror.

And then Wolfgang shoved off and jumped away from the Count gracefully. He stood back a moment and glared at him.

"Why didn't you stay with us?" he snapped as he crossed his sword with Volger's again.

"Wolfgang," Volger said as patiently as he could, blocking and advancing. "I made a very bad decision that I thought was right at the time."

Wolfgang rolled his eyes and brought his sword down hard. "You could have found us."

Volger stumbled a bit from the force with which Wolfgang hit his sword. "I looked. I truly did."

"We slept in the streets more times than I can remember!"

Volger jumped back to catch his breath. "Wolfgang, I am sorry. I'm sorry about all of this. If there's anything you want to know, I'll tell you."

They stood still for a long moment, the Count on bated breath. Neither of them uttered a word; Volger because he had no idea what to say and Wolfgang probably didn't want to.

Wolfgang sighed and tossed his sword away carelessly, not bothering to pick it up. He moved to the edge of the deck and plopped down, letting his legs hang in the open air over the side. He sighed again. "I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have acted like that." His tone was flat; Volger suspected he said it more out of propriety than sincerity.

"It's all right. I would have been just as upset. I'm sorry that I disappointed you."

Wolfgang shook his head. "No, you didn't disappoint me. I just wasn't expecting… I thought it would be different."

"'Different'?"

"Well, for one thing, I didn't expect you to be a _count._ What's your name? Your real name?"

Volger cleared his throat. "Ernst Johannes Volger III." He couldn't remember the last time he'd introduced himself with that name, and it was even more difficult to remember the last time he'd been addressed by it.

"Ernst," Wolfgang repeated, testing it. And then he extended his hand. "Wolfgang Alexandre Tsamporakis, the first, I suppose. Pleased to meet you."

Volger took his hand and shook it firmly. "Likewise."

They were quiet for a moment. "So… What would you like to know?"

"Start at the beginning."

"All right," Volger said, and he tried to think of where would be best.

"Do you remember how you met?" Wolfgang suggested.

Volger nodded. "Yes."

"Then I'd like to know that, please."

The Count didn't even know how his parents had met; he'd never thought to ask. Volger found it odd but humored him nonetheless. "We bumped into each other in Vienna- quite literally and quite by accident.

_Ernst took a deep breath. The air smelled sweet like the blossoms on the few trees lining the city. It was his favorite time of year: when it was neither too hot nor too cold. The sky was blue and the sun was shining; it was a perfect day. _

_In addition to the lovely weather, he'd just had tea with a good friend who'd promised Ernst a secure employment for the next eighteen or so years. He felt accomplished, even proud of himself. Mother and Father were going to be most pleased._

_He came around the corner and walked right into someone. He had no idea how he had missed her; it must have been that she was a great deal shorter than he. She was very, very petty first and foremost, in an exotic way. Ernst had never seen anyone with eyes quite so brown nor hair so dark and curly. Her skinned was tanned by the sun and the golden bracelets crowding her wrists jingled when she straightened up. The bright, vibrant colors of the flowing fabrics she was wearing made her look like an enormous butterfly._

_Ernst found himself at a loss for words in the presence of such an unearthly creature._

Volger smiled softly to himself as he told Wolfgang the memory. "I remember thinking that she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, until she spoke, that is."

Wolfgang laughed. "What do you mean?"

The Count felt relieved and more relaxed now that he had Wolfgang laughing. "Well, after I'd gathered my wits about me and apologized, she looked me straight into the eye and said,

'_You bootlicking, oily, brainless lummox! Mind where you're going!'"_

Wolfgang laughed. Volger felt a faint wistful pressure on his chest and shivers down his spine.

"That doesn't surprise me a bit," Wolfgang said after a moment. "I can imagine her doing that quite well."

Volger chuckled. "It was quite an impression."

"What did you say back?"

_The lady adjusted her shawl and her skirts and sighed in an annoyed manner. Then, after staring at Ernst for a moment, a look of realization and even more irritation came over her. "Where have you been? I've been looking for you everywhere! It's about time you showed up!'"_

_Ernst blinked: he had never heard such a pretty woman use such cacophonous language. He was in an excellent mood, however, so he didn't let her dampen it._ "_Excuse me, madam, but I believe you are mistaken."_

_That only seemed to sour her mood more. "Am I? You're the one mistaken! You promised me yesterday that we would have the permit to stay here! They're throwing us out!"She motioned to the open square behind her, which was full of horses and brightly colored caravans. Throngs of people of all shapes and sizes and just as colorfully dressed were standing near them, arguing with a pair of young guards._

_Ah, so she was a gypsy. Though Ernst knew better than to call her one; for some reason, all of the gypsies he'd ever interacted with found the term offensive. "Traveler" they preferred. _

_Ernst knew just what she was talking about: there was a man than worked in the offices inside the building he was often mistaken for. True, they were both tall and about the same age and had roughly the same looks, but Ernst wasn't able to see the resemblance. They were mixed up at least once every time Ernst came by to see Franz. "I believe you're thinking of Werner," he answered, and then motioned to the entrance. "He's just down the hall, second door on the right."_

_She adjusted the brightly colored shawl around her shoulders. "Oh. I'm sorry about that," she said half-heartedly. "He promised me yesterday we'd be able to stay here but he hasn't given us the proper permit yet. I think he's been avoiding me. It's just down there, you said?" she asked, peeking around his shoulder, eyeing the two guards standing in front of the entrance._

"_Yes, follow the hall and he's second on the right." Though Ernst knew well that they wouldn't let a common gypsy anywhere near the offices._

_But it wasn't his problem anymore, nor was it to begin with. If she was going to be rude, perhaps she could use a good lesson. He stepped down the stairs and reached into his pocket to check the time, only to realize that his watch was missing._

_He checked the rest of his pockets twice more just to be certain, but found nothing. Ernst cursed himself. He must have taken it out when he had tea with Franz and had forgotten to put it back. He had to go back in and get it. He sighed to himself, irritated, and turned on his heel to go back up to the steps._

_This was going to be awkward._

_The gypsy must have been a very slow walker, for he almost ran into her again._

"_Mind where you're going, nobleman," she said, not bothering to turn around._

_Ernst looked behind himself to make sure she was speaking to him. Confused, he asked, "How did you know it was me?"_

_She answered, "Your shoes squeak._ _Are you following me?"_

"_No," he answered. "I forgot something."_

_She laughed. "Can't an aristocrat like you just replace it?"_

"_It belonged to my grandfather," he said quite seriously. And it had. It was a family heirloom: one he and his brothers had always fought over who would receive it. More than that, however, he knew Mother would be terribly distraught if he misplaced it so casually._

_The gypsy stopped in front of the guards blocking the entrance inside._ "_I'm here to see the man called Werner," she said matter-of-factly._

_The guards looked at each other and laughed. "A likely story. Why, a girl like you would run off with the Kaiser's signet ring if we let you through!"_

_Ernst tapped his foot impatiently as the guards heckled her. He was late enough already and if they didn't just let her through or send her away he was never going to get to his next appointment._

"_She's with me," he said from behind her after deciding he could wait no longer._

_The guards stopped laughing and both they and the lady turned to look at him in confused silence._

"_What?" the three of them said in unison._

_Ernst cleared his throat. He really wanted to get his watch and leave, and if he had to claim her to do so he didn't care. It was better than going home without his grandfather's pocket watch at all. "Yes, he's expecting us."_

"_On what business?" said one of the guards indignantly._

_Ernst shot a glance to her; she looked confused. "We're looking to take care of the gyp-" He stopped when she shot him a glare. "-the travelers in the square."_

_One of the guards nodded like he understood, though Ernst himself didn't understand what he'd just said. _"_You can go-"_

"_Wait!" said the other, looking at them both suspiciously. "If you're together, why didn't she come in with you earlier?"_

_Ernst searched for the proper words. The bell tower struck eleven, reminding him that he was late; a horse in the square whinnied and reared; and the woman standing before him was staring at him with a very bemused expression. "She was running late," he said finally.__ "__We were meeting here."_

_The suspicious guard didn't look convinced. "What are your names?"_

_As she opened her mouth to speak, he added, "No need for you to bother, miss. I'm sure Mr. Volger can give them to us."_

_Ernst swallowed. She turned around and mouthed something to him. He furrowed his brow and tilted his head, trying to understand._

"_There are other people waiting," the guard said impatiently._

_Renee, was she French?_

_He mouthed it to her and she shook her head._

_May?_

"_Mr. Volger, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave-"_

_She lifted her hand and pointed at a ring wrapped around her pointer finger. It was a golden band with a small, green stone in the center._

"_Emerald," he said, sounding it out to her. "Emerald..a?" He'd never heard_that _name before; only "Esmeralda!" he said quite victoriously, then cleared his throat. "Esmeralda and I are here to see Werner."_

_She grinned at him and the guard eyed them both suspiciously._ "_Go on," he said."But make it quick. I'm not sure Werner will be pleased of half of the company we've just sent in."_

_Ernst smiled politely and looped the girl's arm through his. "Thank you."_

_Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Esmeralda smile cheekily at the guards as they passed._

"They really fell for that?"

"I think they knew," Volger answered. "Or perhaps they just didn't want to bother testing your mother's temper."

Wolfgang laughed. "What happened after? Did you find your watch?"

"No, actually," Volger answered. "I never did. My mother was so upset, too... In the end, Werner went back on his word and wouldn't let the gypsies stay, so they had to move to the countryside."

Wolfgang's face paled and he froze. "Oh, no."

"What?"

He reached into his pocket. "It wasn't _this _watch, was it?" He produced a small pocketwatch, round and silver. It looked quite like the one that had belonged to Volger years ago.

"Where did you get that?" he asked, looking down at it. Wolfgang held it up in the light to see and sure enough, there was an _E_ engraved on the cover and it was the very watch he had lost the day he met Esmé.

"Mother gave it to me when I turned sixteen! I suppose it belongs to you, though," he said, handing it to the Count.

Volger put up his hand. "Keep it; I would have given it to you anyways."

"You're sure?"

Volger nodded.

Wolfgang put it back in his pocket. "Thank you, then, despite my keeping it for the past four years. So what happened?"

_Esmeralda was terribly frustrated when they left the parliament building as was Ernst. To seem convincing that they really had come together, he walked her back in the throng of disgruntled gypsies. Her wagon was green with gold trim and beautiful, intricate detail. Harnessed to the cart was a lovely, stunningly beautiful horse. It was a vanner, specialty Gypsy breed. Her mane was thick and creamy white; her coat almost like that of a paint with fawn and cream coloring._

"_That's a beautiful horse you have."_

"_Her name is Calliope." Esmeralda stroked the horse's lumpy side as she slowly walked towards the cart. "She's expecting. Due in a week."_

"_Oh?" said Ernst as he reached to touch Calliope's soft muzzle._

_Ernst had always loved horses for as long as he could remember.__The family mares were getting older and weaker and it would be nice to have a strong horse around the estate when the time came to replace them. Father would roll his eyes, but even he had to admit that there was nothing like a gypsy horse, and the opportunity to obtain one did not come often. It was interesting how sought-after the horses were yet how shunned the people that bred and raised were. "How much?"_

_"I'm not looking to sell."_

_"Name your price."_

_"I don't think I want to separate them."_

_"But only one can draw the cart."_

_Esmeralda eyed him. "Perhaps I'll think about it."_

_"And when will you decide?"_

_She opened her mouth to speak but paused. A small, mischievous smile came across her lips. "Come back in a day and I'll tell you."_

_"_I went back every day and she told me the same thing," Volger said with a small smile. "I thought she just wanted my money, but I always went home with just as much as I'd brought."

Wolfgang looked at him with a quizzical expression.

"I even went back after Calliope had her colt. I was there when he was born, we called him Zethos."

"Zethos? That old horse?"

Volger nodded. "Did you ever meet him?"

"Of course!" Wolfgang answered. "We rode him all the way to Crete with hardly any breaks in between. He was still around when I left, actually, though he was quite old. But I thought she didn't want to separate them?"

"Calliope died shortly after he was born. Your mother was very sad, but she did stick to her word."

"And that's how you fell in love?"

"No, not quite," Volger answered. "She still wouldn't tell me if she wanted to sell him, but I kept going back. I found that I didn't mind either way, just as long as I was able to see her. One night the gypsies had a fair. It was enormous and the gypsies from other parts came, too. I felt so out of place but your mother insisted I stay, so I did. The people were very kind to me."

Wolfgang smiled a bit. "Most of them are. Either that or they just want your money," he added with a chuckle.

Volger laughed: from his very brief experience with them, he knew that was what they were usually after. "It was such a lovely evening. I remember at one point:

_The moon was bright and illuminated the entire area with silver light. Ernst found himself in quite an interesting situation: he couldn't bring himself to stop staring at the lovely person in front of him._

_"Is there something I can help you with?" she asked, looking up at him._

_Ernst felt his face redden and he was glad it was fairly dark. "Sorry."_

_She smiled and held out her hand. "Cherry?"_

_Ernst took one out of politeness; he had never especially cared for nor disliked the fruit. "Is this what you always do?" he asked, chewing carefully so as to not hit the pit._

_She shrugged and popped one into her mouth. "They do it every year. We usually stay for the summer; it's so terribly nice here, and then move onto someplace else once the leaves start falling. It's nice, I suppose, but…"_

_"Hmm?" Ernst said, taking another cherry when she offered it to him. _

_"It just gets a little boring after a while."_

_Ernst chuckled. "Really?"_

_"It's always the same thing. Travelling here, travelling there. Sneaking over borders and stealing pigs. I don't know; it just isn't very exciting after a while. I wish something new would happen. Something exciting."_

_Ernst felt a very strange feeling, a flutter in his chest._

"What was it?"

Volger braced himself for how cliché it was going to sound, but it really was the most appropriate response. "I had fallen in love. It was one of the best nights of my life. We saw each other quite a lot after that. I was always making excuses to go to the city," he said, chuckling softly. "That was the happiest summer of my life. We thought we were indestructible. It was shortly after that…" He stopped.

"That I came about?" Wolfgang finished.

Volger shook his head. "Not just then. Her caravan was leaving. We hadn't discussed what we were going to do at the end of the summer, but I knew I didn't want to ever say goodbye to your mother."

"Then what did you do?"

"Well, I had planned on waking up early that morning to talk to her and see if we could arrange for her to stay. But we were out late the night before and I overslept. The second I woke up I took Zethos and rode to find her. They were just passing over the border when I found her. She was sitting in the back of the cart, downtrodden. She must have thought that I didn't care."

"Did she come back with you?"

"She refused to! I promised her the night before I'd meet her early that morning so we could leave together, but she assumed I changed my mind. It took a bit of convincing, but I asked her to marry me then and there."

"After so short a time?"

"I don't think it would have been different if we had only known each other for a week. I knew I loved your mother, and it was a kind of love I'd never experienced before. I didn't want her to leave."

"So then she left with you?"

Volger nodded. "Yes. And a little while after that, we... Found out about you."

"Do you regret it?"

He didn't answer for a moment, choosing his words wisely. "We were very scared when we found out, I will admit. But once the initial shock wore off, we were very excited."

"..Do you really think I was a mistake?"

"Of course not," the Count answered promptly. "Quite honestly, I never thought that I would be a father, not until I met your mother. Then I couldn't think of having children with anyone but her. But we should have waited. If we had gotten married, we would have been _legally_ bound to each other, and to you, and it would have been much more difficult being separated. I wish we had done things differently."

They sat in silence; the only sound was the soft splash of waves as the hit the hull of the ship as it glided through the water slowly. He had loads of questions he wanted to ask: he wanted to know absolutely everything about Wolfgang; what he liked and disliked, if he went to school, but there was one that had been burning in his mind for years. Volger cleared his throat:

"Is your mother well?"

Wolfgang looked at him. "Mother? Oh, I've no idea. I haven't seen her in ages."

Volger's eyes widened and his heart sank. "You don't mean she's.." He couldn't bring himself to say it.

Wolfgang stared at him for a moment, then a look of realization spread across his face. "Oh, no! Not like that; I just haven't actually seen her in quite some time."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "I wanted to become a sailor, she likes being a gypsy. I never really had a sense of normalcy when I was growing up because we were always moving, and that's something I've always sought after. Of course," he said, chuckle softly, "working aboard a ship isn't exactly the best for that. When I was old enough, I left for the sea. The last time I saw her she was in Crete."

"Really?"

Wolfgang nodded. "We moved into my grandmother's house. That's how I met Captain Dakkar, actually. I was walking down by the docks and he introduced himself to me. I said goodbye to Mother, boarded the ship, and haven't been on land for more than a week since."

Volger processed the information. "Why sailing?"

He smiled a bit. "Mother has asked me that question so many times. I haven't been able to get enough of the sea since the first time I set foot in it."

"You certainly don't get it from me," Volger muttered.

Wolfgang looked down at the water. "There's just something wonderful about it. I feel safe here."

"You don't find it dangerous at all?"

Wolfgang smiled. "A ship is safe in harbor, but that's not what ships are for."

"I suppose you're right about that."

And the two of them sat in peaceful silence. Volger stole glances of his son with a feeling of awe that this was really _his_ son. He felt a pressure in his chest, a warm, blissful feeling. Happiness.

They sat for quite an amount of time; not speaking, just sitting. Volger was perfectly happy to.

After a long while of just staring into the water, Wolfgang spoke. "What's this?"

Volger looked to see what Wolfgang was talking about. In the water was a dress floating by. It was bright and the color unmistakable: yellow.

Wolfgang grabbed a longhook and balanced on the railing as he hung the hook down to snag it. He did after a few tries, and he lifted it out of the water. A bemused look came across his face. "Funny, my mother had a dress just like that."

It was soaking wet and made a _sploosh!_ when he dropped it onto the deck. As he looked it over, Wolfgang's expressed became quizzical. "It was torn right there in the collar, too."

After a moment, a barrel went bobbing past the ship. And then pieces of splintered driftwood.

Wolfgang followed the trail with his eyes and then looked up."Hekate and Leto alike," he whispered hoarsely.

Volger raised an eyebrow at the curse, followed his son's gaze, and muttered one of his own.

In the distance there was a large pillar of fire. It floated nearer and Volger saw that it was not a pillar but rather a small ship, completely ablaze. How on earth did another ship end up here?

When he glanced down into the water, even more disbelief came over him. What he saw, clinging to a piece of driftwood and not doing much else, made his heart nearly stop. He was unable to move, like everything happening was a dream. He watched Wolfgang dive into the water immediately and blinked to make sure he was awake.

Wolfgang called to him from the water and Volger tossed a rope down.

A moment later, Wolfgang emerged from the water with his arms full of Esmé.


	30. Interlude

**Someone has done something wonderful! bookworm250250 has come up with a very clever idea, and I am honored to be part of it! There's a link on my profile to a YouTube channel called the Only Fanfiction, where my friend, Bookworm, is reading different fanfictions aloud! Isn't that such a great idea? And he's decided to read Tikal first! If anyone here hasn't read Tikal, this is a great way to do so! He has SUCH a great voice. Go check it out and motivate him to do the next chapter! :D**

**Thank you to everyone that reviewed, especially EllieStone, ReadySetJett, Mija, Dontlookatme, DragonLady Warrior, bookworm250250, Zaivex, polarbear257, Da_Undertoad_51, Xodiac451, Darth revan reborn, Peep, and Wordnerb93!**

**Peep: Thank you so much! I'm so glad that you like it! :D Yes, we can definitely have more Dalek moments. :) I don't want to answer your other questions and spoil anything! I promise everything will be, though - in due time. But no, Lillit is not in this. :/ I was THIS close to giving her a Very Small Part, but it just didn't work out. Here's an update just for you. :) Thank you for reviewing! I hope to hear from you again soon! You rock!**

**Mija: Here, you can see for yourself! :D Thank you for the review! You're super!**

**Dontlookatme: I'M SO HAPPY! :D  
THANK YOU for the review! Here's the next chappy! Eeek! I hope all of your schoolwork is going well! Thank you for the message on Wattpad, too. :) Don't worry: we're only a little over halfway done, so there's still a way to go. :) You are awesome!**

**Da_Undertoad_51: Thank you for the review and for the suggestion. :) You are super-duper!**

**_Lígo Lýkos _means "little wolf" in Greek. It's Wolfgang's childhood nickname. :D**

**All original characters and plotline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing! **

**:)**

_Thump!_

The Count drew in a breath.

_Thumpity-thump!_

His heart nearly hammered its way right out of his chest.

"Volger!"

The Count looked in Wolfgang's direction when he heard his name. It sounded almost as though Wolfgang was yelling at him through a thick wall, or perhaps there was a bit of water in Volger's ear. He was blurred, like he was dreaming; seeing him through a dirty window. This couldn't _really_ be happening, could it?

He blinked a few times and everything came back into dim focus. Wolfgang stood in front of him, dripping, with Esmé's limp body in his arms.

"I don't know what to do," he said, his voice shaky.

The Count snapped out of it and immediately shed his coat and spread it out on the deck. He helped Wolfgang lower her onto it as gently and quickly as possible. Volger took her wrist and felt for a pulse, but couldn't find one.

"_Mitera! Mitera_!" Wolfgang said rapidly to her in Greek while looking over her. He muttered something else and placed his ear up to her mouth.

"I don't think she's breathing!" Wolfgang looked up at Volger, his eyes wide. He was shivering and on the verge of hysteria. "What do I do?"

Volger looked over Esmé's soaked, still body. He had never in his life resuscitated anyone and he wasn't sure how to. "Go get the doctor."

Wolfgang nodded and scrambled away as fast as he could.

Volger didn't let go of her hand; in fact, he placed it into his and held it tight. Her skin was alarmingly cold from being in the water so long, so he took her body and pulled it towards him to keep her warm. Her back went across his legs and he cradled her head in the crook of his elbow. He held her against him, hoping that his warmth might pass onto her, hoping it might wake her up.

For a moment, the Count was lost just looking at her. She was _here_; it wasn't just a dream. He pushed some of her hair away from her forehead and found himself slightly surprised that she didn't take his hand and smile as he had expected her to. She didn't move at all, and that made him extremely uneasy.

Soon enough, the doctor stomped over and knelt down next to them, still in his nightclothes and yawning. He grabbed her hand and placed two fingers on her wrist. He felt around for a bit, but then checked her neck. Volger waited with bated breath.

"She's alive," the doctor announced.

Volger sighed; relieved.

"Thank heaven," Wolfgang said.

"Barely," the doctor added as he rolled up his sleeves. "You'll need to let her down on the deck."

Volger did so, not without questioning the doctor's calm manner.

"Can you do anything?" said Wolfgang in a panicked voice, stooping over them and dripping water.

"I'm going to try," the doctor responded calmly. He placed his hand on her chest and pushed down rapidly.

Volger watched him carefully; he held his breath without even realizing it.

_Push-push-pause. Push-push-pause._

The doctor sat back a moment to catch his breath. "She might have swallowed too much water."

"Please keep trying!" Wolfgang said pleadingly.

The doctor nodded and repeated the attempt. The moments passed painstakingly, and though it was probably only a few minutes, it felt like an hour. Volger held her hand tight so he could feel the moment she held his in return.

_Push-push-pause. Push-push-pause._

The doctor sat back on his haunches and shook his head. "I think she's gone."

A hot clump rose in Volger's throat.

He forced himself to swallow. "Try it again."

"Count Volger-"

"Do it!" he shouted.

The doctor sighed and pushed down on her chest with his palms again, even doing an extra round, but she didn't move. He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

Volger's heart sank. Then there was a sudden, almost painful squeezing in his hand, like it was caught in a vice. And then there was a loud, deep gasp. Everyone turned towards Esmé as she sat up suddenly, her eyes opened wide and she took a deep, desperate lungful of air. She clutched the Volger's hand and gagged while hacking up the seawater that had collected in her lungs.

She caught her breath and looked around. Her dark eyes flicked from person to person surrounding her (which, by this time, was at least half of the crew, if not more) until her eyes fell on Wolfgang. "_Lígo Lýkos_?"

Wolfgang looked at her; relieved. "Are you all right?"

She coughed a bit but nodded.

Wolfgang sighed. "Mother, what on earth are you doing here?"

She furrowed her brow and thought. "I was-"

Her eyes fell on her hand, which was still wrapped in Volger's, and she pulled away quickly, like he had burned it, and held it protectively. She stared at Volger with her dark eyes wide.

And all the world stopped.

Suddenly it felt as though it were only Esmé and Ernst, together again. He was there, and she was there and that was it. His heart fluttered and soared with joy; love. Everything in the world was right and beautiful. The orange-pink light crept just over the horizon and he was able to see her much better. She looked so much the same as she had when he had last seen her, save for the scattered strands of silver in her dark hair and the wrinkling near her eyes. He thought she looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

A sailor clearing his throat brought Volger back down to earth.

Her forehead creased, as though she was confused. Her eyes didn't leave Volger as Wolfgang helped her to her feet.

The Count stood, holding her gaze. He had imagined this moment from the day he had vowed that he would find her again, but now that it came down to it, he didn't have any idea what to say. _Hello? How are you? Sorry for abandoning you and our child._

But he didn't have to think of something, for just then she gathered her skirts, marched up to him, and slapped him hard in the face.

Volger stumbled back a step from the sudden, sharp impact. The crewmen around him shuffled back, probably out of fear she'd slap them, too. It was a good slap, but he wasn't about to admit it. He took a breath and pushed the anger he felt rising in his chest back down. He felt thankful for the control over his emotions he had practiced so diligently over the years. He stood there with a hand to the stinging part of his cheek thinking of an appropriate response.

"I-" he said, fumbling with his words like an imbecile. "Esmeralda…"

She blinked and gave him an expectant, hard look that hurt almost as much as the slap.

There really would be no words enough. There was nothing he could say that could excuse his actions, nothing that would make up for twenty years lost.

Before he could change his mind, he did something else, something very reckless and highly audacious, something he had been dreaming of for years.

The crowd parted and moved back as he stepped forward, placed his hands on the sides of her face, and kissed her straight on the mouth. He caught her wrist and held it firmly as she went to slap him again, and after a moment she relaxed and held her fingers over his. Her lips were soft and warm: exactly the way he remembered.

He didn't even notice her other hand slide away from his until she hit him again; harder this time.

He couldn't stop himself this time. "What was that for?"

She glared at him severely. "You have no business kissing me, _Count Volger_."

Her tone stung almost as much as his cheek. Volger held the side of his throbbing face as she roughly shoved his coat into his hand and walked past him. As she stormed away, the crewmen moved out of the way nervously, probably afraid she'd slap all of them, too.

Wolfgang gave him a helpless look and followed her.


	31. Esmé, Terror of the High Seas

**:D**

**Hi, everybody! It's been a while!**

**So sorry it's taken me longer than usual to update. It seems that EVERYTHING I've been doing this month has required a lot more attention than usual and a lot more time, hence the glaring lack of _Colossus_ updates.**

**Well, devoted readers, fear not! For in my state of furious busy, I have taken what little time I could to write. **

**I would like to thank everyone that reviewed the last chapter, namely: WordNerb93, EllieStone, ReadySetJett, Sassysplash, Darth revan reborn, Peep, Da_Undertoad_51, DragonLady Warrior, Dontlookatme, polarbear257, and . Each of you is wonderful and I truly, truly cannot thank you enough for taking the time to leave your thoughts and comments. :) It seriously makes my day!**

**Now, onto other business...**

**Da_Undertoad_51: lawl! He did. :D Thank you for the review! :D**

**Peep: Thank you so much for your kindness and the review! And, to answer your excellent questions:****  
****Regarding dragons: I honestly hadn't thought about it! I don't think there will be any, as awesome as dragons are. I have too many other plotlines. o.O****  
****Regarding Japanese mythology: it does exist! And it's really, really cool. I have almost every chapter drafted (but not edited), and I can't remember if there is anything else Japanese... I have a feeling there is, though! Isn't Mayan mythology the coolest? :D There's definitely some Greek mythology coming up, and not just the typical gods/goddesses. A lot of the names of things and places in this story are references to ancient Greek ballads and characters and such; if you (or anyone else!) see and point them out, I'll give you cookies! :D There were A LOT of those in Tikal, and it was so much fun! I've been slacking in this story, but will try to pick up the pace!**

**Dontlookatme: :D YOU ARE SO KIND TO ME. Nope, she's very mch alive and feisty. :D We'll see how things get with Wolfgang/Volger now that his mother's around... Let's just say they have a bit of a complex relationship. ;) Go study! :D**

**Sassysplash: I'm sorry. :( But thank you for the review! :D**

**Have I ever told you people how awesome ReadySetJett is? Well, if I haven't before, I am now. She's an artist and has been drawing out characters from this story! Cruise on over to my profile where I've posted the link. Then click, bask in her awesome talent, and repeat. :D**

**I almost forgot about the Captain's pet seal. There really are too many characters in this. But I like animals, so I'm not going to kill her off. For anyone else that did, her name is Kalinda!**

**All original characters and plotline belong to Scott Westerfeld; I own nothing!**

**:)**

A heavy, thick silence hung in the air like a cloud. The only noise breaking it was the rapid, impatient tapping Esmé was making with her foot and the steady hum of the tank on the other side of the room.

Not fifteen minutes after being pulled out of the frigid ocean and revived, Esmé had demanded loudly to speak with the Captain. Wolfgang, of course, had tried to reason with her, but she refused to listen and stated that her need was urgent and she would not rest until she did. After she had attracted enough attention and Haamid realized she was not going to quiet down until she got exactly what she had requested, he herded her into the Captain's study to wait. He seemed appropriately confused and terrified when he went to fetch his master, probably too afraid to face the gypsy woman on his own.

Wolfgang stood with her, trying to coax from her the reason why she had been at sea in the first place, but every time he spoke of it, he stopped short when she looked at him in such a way that indicated she had no such desire to speak of such things, and that was that. He tried speaking to her of other things, but she remained silent and tight-lipped.

Count Volger was pacing a safe distance away (he could still feel the dull throb in his cheek from where she had slapped him), for he had been herded into the study as well. Perhaps Haamid was worried of what Esmé was capable of when left under the supervision of only one person.

Though Volger wanted desperately to reason with her and apologize for everything, if she wasn't going to listen to Wolfgang, there was no way she'd listen to anything he had to stay.

However, wanting and actually doing were two different things.

Everything that he had worked so hard to shut up and fortify the past twenty years: his emotions, his controlled feelings; he could feel all of it unraveling. And it wasn't a feeling he particularly enjoyed.

And so he moved about the small room steadily, forcing himself to relax.

Despite the sun being well over the horizon and warming things up enough that Volger found himself tugging at his shirt occasionally (if this was what it was like barely before the sun had been up, the rest of the afternoon was going to be scorching), but Esmé still shivered violently. Her wet dress clung to her and a ring of seawater had formed around her from the dripping hem. Twice Volger had tried to give her his coat, and twice she had shoved it back to him, not-so-politely refusing.

"Oh, for heavens' sake," Volger said after the third time, exasperated. He didn't care as much if she didn't want to speak with him, but he was not going to watch her contract hypothermia thanks to her own stubbornness. "Wolfgang, get your mother a blanket."

Wolfgang nodded obediently and left the room. He returned moments later with a heavy, wool blanket which he draped over Esmé's shoulders.

She glared at Volger. "Don't tell my son what to do." She pulled the blanket around her shoulders and softly added to Wolfgang, "Thank you, _matia mou."_

Volger sighed in annoyance and felt the throb in his cheek, adding to his irritation.

Wolfgang looked at him sympathetically.

"You're being ridiculous," the Count said calmly, trying to keep his temper in check. He was overtired and his face still throbbed – not to mention he knew that Esmé was purposely being difficult. He wouldn't normally have let it bother him, except she knew what she was doing.

And she was good at getting under his skin. What was the power this woman held that caused him to love her yet drove him completely mad simultaneously?

She turned at looked at him. "Am I?"

He took a breath, fighting his temper. "You seem to forget that he's my son, too."

"And you forget exactly who raised him and took care of him all of his life," she shot back without missing a beat, turning away, indicating that the conversation was over.

Volger almost retaliated, but was interrupted by a voice from behind.

"Would someone care to explain to me what is happening?"

The three of them turned and saw the Captain. He stood in the doorway standing up straight with his hands behind his back. He looked rather grim about the mouth, and his forehead was creased in an unhappy manner. Though he seemed to be trying to hold onto his usual stoic and dignified manner, his hair and clothing were quite disheveled, and the bags under his eyes gave away his exhaustion.

His pet seal, its mood quite the opposite of his, shuffled up behind him enthusiastically. The creature barked at them at an obnoxiously loud volume, all together too cheerful for that hour of the morning. Count Volger stepped aside, both to let the Captain in and to not get trampled by the animal as it bounded towards Wolfgang.

"Sir," Wolfgang said, straightening up as the Captain strolled into the room. "It seems there was-"

"It seems that we have a guest," Captain Dakkar interrupted as he stopped at his seat before sitting down. He looked at Esmé, waiting for an introduction.

"Yes, sir," Wolfgang said. He took Esmé gently by the elbow and led her forward. "This is my mother."

Captain Dakkar looked at Esmé, and Esmé looked at him.

"It is an honor, madam," he said, bowing slightly. "Wolfgang is a fine sailor, and we are-"

"Who do you think you are?" she interrupted.

He raised an eyebrow. "I am Captain Dakkar, madam. Captain of _Colossus_, jewel of the sea!"

"That doesn't give you any rights to be putting these men in danger – namely my son!" she snapped.

The Captain straightened up. "Pardon?"

"Please," she said, softer this time, though far from what was polite. "You must turn around while you still can."

Volger saw Wolfgang raise an eyebrow, but before he could speak, the Captain did. "And why would I ever do that?"

"Because I know where you're going."

Captain Dakkar's expression was quite unreadable. "How would a lady such as yourself come across such knowledge?"

She frowned. "Where do you think the map came from?"

Everyone glanced at Wolfgang, who had become quite sheepish. "I was only borrowing it."

"Borrowing without asking," Esmé corrected. "I have heard of this place, Captain, and I know that it is as unsafe as it is difficult to find."

Captain Dakkar raised both eyebrows. "You are completely correct: these coordinates were near impossible to locate. But now that we've found it, it seems a waste to turn around, wouldn't you say? I assure you that both my crew and I are well-aware of my ship's course, as well as what may or may not await there. We've taken all of the necessary precautions. Now, I'm sure the rest of us are for more interested in how you ended up aboard my ship. However did you find us?"

Esmé shifted and pulled the blanket closer. "It wasn't on purpose… A storm brought me this way."

"Where were you headed, if I may ask?"

She straightened up and quietly said, "Australia."

"_Australia_?" Wolfgang repeated incredulously. "Why in Poseidon's beard were you headed there?"

"I had good reason," she answered.

His voice lowered and he looked at her suspiciously. "Have they been bothering you?"

Volger perked up.

Esmé rolled her eyes. "No! I just thought it would be an interesting country to sail to."

"'Interesting?'" Wolfgang repeated. "Mother, you hate sailing. You've told me a thousand times!"

"I don't need to explain myself to you. That isn't what matters! Captain, your crew is in great danger and if you don't turn around now, it will be too late!"

"That is absolutely impossible," he said back calmly.

"Impossible?" she repeated. "It isn't! Just go back-"

"But I haven't any idea where we are," he said.

Volger looked at Wolfgang, and Wolfgang looked at the Captain. "What do you mean, sir?"

"Until we reach land, we will have no way to know our location. If I turned this ship around now, that would be more dangerous. Starvation and madness would overtake my crew before any island. I will not be changing my mind."

Before she could answer, Captain Dakkar stood. "Surely you must be exhausted. Perhaps you ought to rest."

"I will not rest until-"

"I insist," he said, rising and holding open the door.

"And since Wolfgang pulled you from the water and aboard my ship," he said. "You may stay with him. Please, go and rest. I assure you that you will be dropped off in the port nearest to Australia as we can reach."

"_My_ room, sir?" Wolfgang said, his eyes wide.

"She is _your_ mother," he said back.

Esmé narrowed her eyes at the Captain. "You heartless, boiling-"

The Captain closed the door before she could finish. He sighed and sat back down at his desk. "There is a reason I don't usually allow women aboard my ship, Count Volger. Most of them are like _her_," he grumbled from his chair.

* * *

Alek stumbled sleepily across the deck, trying to blink himself awake.

"Tired," Bovril muttered from his shoulder.

"I agree," Alek yawned.

It had been an especially long night. Deryn hadn't been able to sleep, and Alek hadn't either. Between getting up every hour to ensure that his wife was all right and the nightmares of something happening to her, he couldn't remember sleeping at all.

Alek turned when he heard a bark, and saw Kalinda bounding toward him excitedly

"Hello, Kalinda," he said, petting the seal in an attempt to calm her down. "I'm sorry, but I don't have anything for you."

As he bent to pet her, Bovril climbed higher and onto his head, its tiny claws digging into his skull.

"Bovril," he said as he tried to pry the loris from his head. "Please-"

And before he could, something collided with him and knocked him down and onto the hard deck.

Alek sat up after a moment, dizzy. Before he could get onto his feet, he saw Wolfgang rushing to stand up.

"Sorry!" he said hastily. Wolfgang jumped up and kept walking, but turned around as he walked towards his room. "I've just got to..." His eyes drifted over Alek's shoulder. Alek turned to see what he was looking at and saw a woman, looking quite annoyed, wrapped in a blanket and heading their way.

He turned back to ask Wolfgang who it was, but Wolfgang didn't answer.

"I'm so sorry! Are you all right?" he offered a hand to Alek and pulled him up quickly.

Alek stood to his feet, and before he could answer, Wolfgang glanced past his shoulder and his eyes widened.

"I've got to get going," he continued, walking backwards. "I've got cleaning to do."

And with that, he hurried off in the direction of his cabin.

"Cleaning?" Alek repeated, rubbing the back of his head.

And then someone else pushed past him. Alek spun around, expecting to find a clumsy sailor, but instead came face to face with the lady. Up close, she looked even more cross.

He hadn't seen her before and he was so surprised that he took a step back.

"Excuse me," he said, holding Bovril and fumbling to get out of the way.

She simply stepped around him and carried on her way, which was the same direction as Wolfgang's cabin.

Alek watched her for a moment, trying to place who she was. The Count stopped next to him. Alek turned to Volger with a confused expression on his face. The Count himself looked rather grim.

He crinkled his brow at the strange expression on the man's face, and then realized that the Count wasn't looking at him at all, but rather the lady that had just walked past.

"Who is that?" he asked dumbly.

Volger cleared his throat. "That, Aleksandar, is Wolfgang's mother," he said just before walking off to his own cabin.


End file.
